Madness
by prettygirl17
Summary: Drew's friends drag him to a counselor when they find out about his past. Only problem is his psychologist has some problems of his own. Drew's the patient, so what would his words amount to? Torn between speaking and remaining quiet, Drew is forced to choose the path that he will take before the real mad man takes it all from him. DrewxMay AshxMisty contestshipping pokeshipping
1. Tell Me About Your Childhood

**A/N: Well here's a new one. I've been dying to write this story and today it just came out. There are quite a few people waiting for updates for "Tried and True." My goal is to get that story up in about a month, so this one should last about a month itself. Which means updates are going to be very frequent. For my new readers, welcome! I hope you enjoy my story!**

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"So... what is it that you would like to talk to me about?"

Drew narrowed his eyes, leaning back farther in his seat. His _leather_ seat. It was rather comfortable. The whole point was to make him feel that way: comfortable, so that then he would just what? Spill everything?

The man's mouth twisted a bit at the side and he lifted a pad to his gaze.

Drew only glared more. What was with the stupid pad? It made him feel like a child that had done something wrong. Drew glared at it.

"Alright, let's try something else." The man dropped the pad to his lap (upside down, Drew noticed). He tilted his head, copper curls flopping smoothly to the side (which just made Drew want to deepen his glare, but at this point that was impossible). "Tell me about your childhood."

Drew blinked, his mouth pulling up in a half sneer as the barest of chuckles slipped out. Really?

The man frowned. "What is it?"

Drew wanted to say that it was a cliché question to ask him. He wanted to make fun of the wording. But the man lifted the pad again and Drew stayed silent. He wasn't sure what about the pad made him so uneasy, but he hated it.

After a moment of terse silence between the two, the man sighed and dropped the pad to his lap. "Would you like me to help you?"

Drew couldn't resist the first expression that rose to his face. He rose an eyebrow. Why would he want to talk to someone like this? And who in their right mind would want to talk to another _man_ about their childhood?

With a purse of lips the man set the pad aside and looked Drew in the eyes. "You may go."

Drew wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know if he could go back to May and the others without at least saying something. But the man had dismissed him. Drew wasn't storming out. He had come till their session was over. Drew nodded and rose, then grabbed his coat off a hook by the door and left the entire session without saying one word. The man watched him go with a shake of his head.

When Drew entered the waiting room he was surprised. In the ornate wood benches around the wall sat May, Misty, and Ash. May stood abruptly as he entered the room. Drew clenched his teeth and turned on his heel, exiting with his coat still slung over his back. May glanced to Misty and Ash who watched him go with similar faces of surprise. When they didn't move, May bolted and pushed the door to the waiting room open, following Drew down the long hallway that would lead to the exit.

"Drew!" May called from behind him.

Drew didn't slow. If anything he walked faster.

May clenched her fists in frustration and took to running, reaching his side just before he reached the doors that would take him out of the building. "Drew..." May took a breath and leaned around his side.

Drew stopped but looked strait ahead, through the glass doors to the fountain outside the building, to the blue sky and the green grass that they had far too much of.

"How was it?"

Drew blinked, finally turning to look at her. 'How do you think it went?' His expression stated.

When May only shirked away from him, Drew pushed open the door and stalked from the building.


	2. Faux Angel Wings

**A/N Wondering where I've been? Let me first state that I have absolutely NO patience for rewriting a chapter. I loathe it. Well, I wrote this chapter and it was great. Then I went out of town**** (a friend of the family died, which made it hard to write... I'm okay though). I planned to post my already written chapter on Tuesday when I got home when, lo and behold, my flash drive goes out and deletes everything on it.**

**So I'm left with nothing else to do but rewrite the chapter, knowing that I hate it and dreading it more than looking forward to it AND knowing that I promised my readers fast updates. So of course, it took me forever to suck it up and sit down to rewrite the chapter, knowing that it wouldn't measure up to the last.**

**And as the last part to my story... I found the right flash drive and realized that**** the chapter I had written had actually not been deleted at all. So today I took both chapters and combined them which resulted in the below chapter. Because of this, it may be less eloquent.**

**And THAT, ladies and gentleman… is why this chapter is so late.**** I apologize and promise to update faster in the future or at least give you all updates.**

**Hopefully, it will still measure up.**

**Enjoy.**

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The birds were chirping, lone newspapers covered the sidewalks, and to his right children laughed as they ran through the park. It was all beautiful. But he missed all of it. It was hot. Too hot. Drew stubbornly focused on this rather than the raging emotions running through him. He told himself he was not upset. He wasn't hurt that his first real friends had decided to drag him to a counselor. That the first people he had ever really opened up to hadn't accepted him.

No, he wasn't hurt. He was angry. Angry at them and angry at the counselor who stared at him with such lack of interest, as if he were just another customer. (because of course he _was_. Why would a complete stranger give a care how he felt?)

Drew sighed out loud. Nearby he could hear birds chirping. The park was usually busy this time of day but was eerily silent. He could usually hear children laughing when he passed by, teasing and yelling as children often did. He had felt a strange sense of loss almost every time. This change was welcomed. Drew sidestepped a stray newspaper and turned to score the stairs of the house before him. He pulled out his key, because of course he _always_ locked his door (who didn't in the city), and slammed the door behind him. All at once the noise of the outside world was blocked out. No cars. No birds. Just him and welcoming silence. For once it was ominous rather than comforting, as if the silence itself was speaking, telling Drew that he shouldn't be alone, that there should be others with him filling up that silence.

Drew vaguely agreed but tried to ignore the idea. Instead he threw his coat on the couch and made himself at home. His hands were shaking. After a moment of stifling his annoyed thoughts he stood from the couch and took a deep breath. It was like testing the weather. He paused, tilting his head to the side and nodded to himself.

All better.

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May ignored the fountain. She didn't like it to start with. It was beautiful, to maybe an artist or a historian. It featured a classic fountain top, just a circle spewing water. The water rose and fell onto a large disk and made a constant splatter as it hit the concrete. But below the disk holding it up was the form of a small girl. Or a young girl, as the statue was obviously much large than what she would have been. The girl was bent over, hands behind her as she held the weight of the disk on her back Her eyes were upturned as if looking for a way out, though that feature was hard to see behind the water. Peaking from behind her back and beneath the disk were a pair of angel wings, crushed from the weight of the disk. May supposed it was symbolic. That people were coming here to remove their burdens so that they could be free. Like the girl with her tied down wings. May could look at it with nothing more than sorrow for the little girl. It was one of the few features that she was aware of in her own personality. It was hard for her to wait for someone she cared about to heal, to look at a depiction that depressing and feel hope for what she would be someday. Instead she wanted to pull the little girl into her arms and weep with her.

It was hard to realize that she couldn't fix everything she wanted to. That she had to stand to the side and let someone else do what she wanted to because they could do it better. Instead of holding _him_ ,,,all she could do was watch and hope. And she wasn't good at that.

May walked numbly behind Ash and Misty as they passed over the cobbled stones that just passed the gate of the large building behind them. From their position beside the thin iron bars that would close the building off at night, she could still hear the fountain behind her and knew if she turned she would see the girl. Bent and sad. Her thoughts went to Drew as he had left the building, the almost imperceptible hunch of his back that possibly no one but her had noticed. She wondered if they had done the right thing, if they weren't just adding more to Drew's burden. Crushing his wings. . . .

Ash and Misty were nearby ahead of them. Ash glanced back, his hands behind his head. His feet stopped on the cobbled sidewalk. Misty paused, a few steps ahead of them and glanced back. When May stopped without realizing it as they did, Ash looked at May with concern. "You alright?"

May jumped and looked up at him. Straining a smile, she nodded.

"It'll be alright," he went on.

May blinked at the words but Ash only gave her a half smile. "Really. He'll get over it. It's to be expected. It's going to be hard for him, but he'll be alright."

Somewhat warmed by these words, May smiled sincerely and nodded, unable to push more words from her throat through her emotions.

Misty looked at them both and frowned, placing her hands on her hips in more of a thinking posture than scolding. "Maybe this isn't what he needs."

Ash turned to her slowly, but May's gaze switched to her in an instant and took on a look of concern. Ash frowned, looking a little bothered himself. "Why?" He asked.

Misty bit her lip, gaze wandering to the ground in thought. She shrugged. Ash took note of the fact that she suddenly looked a lot less confident then she usually did. "He reminds me...of me...sometimes," she admitted softly.

Ash blinked. "Of you? How?"

May only watched with bated breath.

She shrugged. "Well, if you had pulled me in there at his age I would have fought it. I don't think I would have even shown up."

Ash only stared. He glanced at May to see if she had found the hidden meaning, but found the same look of concern. Turning back to Misty he finally stated. "So where's the similarity?"

Misty looked up in annoyance. "I'm saying that he's going to fight it. He might have shown up, but they can't help him if he won't let them. That's probably why he came out early. And _if_ they can't help him all he's going to do is resent _us_ because we pushed him in there."

There was silence for a moment and then Misty whispered. "I'm just not sure it's worth his friendship."

There was a moment of silence with only the water splashing behind them and the birds singing in the park nearby. May looked back to the ground, her shoulders coming around herself. She had been nervous about it to start with. None of them had really dragged him in on their own. They had all gleaned support from each other with the idea and given him little pushes. But all together it was enough. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of loosing him altogether. And Misty was right. Drew was stubborn. What if she was hurting him more than helping?

Misty's eyes widened at the shudder that ran through May, tell-tale signs of tears. "It's alright," she stated quickly. "Let's just give him some space. Ash is right. If he wants to go back, he'll go back."

May wanted to run to him and apologize and tell him there was no pressure on him to do anything that he didn't want to do, but something held her back. Despite all of their words, a part of her knew, Drew did need this. He just didn't know it yet.

It would be worth it, she told herself.

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Drew spent the day by himself, hid up in the house he now called home. A gift from his late parents, though he saw it as less of a gift and more as something that just came with death.

Death didn't bother Drew. Not really. What bothered him was the stuff that came after it. Wills and working out who deserved what and who had been loved the most. Drew was an only child but that didn't stop him from being nervous. He had half expected the house to go to some unknown stranger rather than receiving it himself. It would be just like his father to pawn it off just to spite him for leaving. At the same time it could be some sick joke in which the man pretended to care. At times he could hear his voice around the building, taunting him. _"See? I gave you a house,"_ it stated. The voice sounded kind but was thick with an overly caring tone that spoke of false sincerities. Either way, Drew didn't much care for the sentiment. Still, the voice taunted him.

His mother had been a different story altogether. She had been kind. Inhumanly kind. At times so sweet that only Drew could tell it was unnatural. She had never hurt him, as far as she knew…. Almost like his so called friends…but no that was different.

And that was just it. Who cared what he had been through? It was more neglect than anything else. Some people would tell him it was just their way of loving him, but Drew knew better. His parents were controlling, and they always made sure that Drew knew just who was in charge. He had decided as a young teenager that he was old enough to make his own decisions and left the house permanently. So really...

…why, out of everything his so called "friends" could have done for him, did they decide he needed counseling? Drew couldn't wrap his mind around it. Especially concerning Misty and Ash. If anything the one who needed counseling was Ash. A kid raised without a father who then supposedly saved the world single-handedly. Drew still didn't understand that…. It was Misty who had brought it up. Ash had merely stared at her with a mixture of acceptance and confusion. As if he couldn't understand why it was extraordinary to mention him saving …well, everyone.

Whose idea had it been to send him to counseling? Drew couldn't remember. But once it came up it was impossible to squash the idea. Each of his friends had offered similar agreements of consent and everything had gone downhill from there, till Drew was sitting in an office staring at a man who was asking him questions no man should ask another man, and Drew didn't know what to think. Did he need this? What could those stupid questions possibly do for him?

"_Tell me about your childhood."_

Drew scoffed out loud this time. It was like a joke from a children's TV series. Why was that always how the sessions began on TV? What was it about that question that made a counselor think that they were getting somewhere?

Drew paused and honestly thought about it. If it wasn't awkward, what would he say about his childhood? What was there to say other than it had been boring? He supposed he would tell him what had accidentally slipped to the others. His parents hadn't cared. He had taken care of himself. And why was that a bad thing? The neglect…that was hard. He could admit. Not to anyone else but to himself. Your parents are the ones who are supposed to take care of you. And they hadn't.

But May…May had noticed other signs. She was concerned that he didn't eat like she thought a guy usually would (Drew personally thought that she had her comparison to Ash who frankly ate too much). She was concerned that past insults and a rough shoulder he didn't know how to start a conversation (he had no words for this). She was worried about his sleeping habits (Drew didn't sleep till late at night, but always woke up around four in the morning. He didn't know why but he wrote it off to insomnia). She was also worried about his obsessive competitiveness (Drew honestly wanted to smack her for this one. She was more competitive than he was in a moment of battle. She had tried to explain it but he still didn't get what she was trying to say.)

Nothing had really been brought up in anger or frustration. May didn't treat him like there was anything wrong with him, she brought the issues up casually, like she would with another friend and stated that he should think about it. Was it annoying? Yes. But it was just May's way of caring. And he could live with that. The really annoying part was that these were the same things that May had stated she was impressed with him for. The closer they got, the more the features became issues instead. And Drew wasn't sure what to think. Was there a problem or was May just not accepting him?

But May wasn't like that. She accepted everybody, She loved everybody. And while that last point would sometimes make him nervous, it also made him think that maybe, _maybe_ he could do this. He could try.

For her.

He would bring up the issues she had pointed out and work them out with the counselor. As much as he hated the idea, maybe it would be good. He might get more sleep. He might be able to eat more. He would just have to put up with that stupid counselor a couple of more times. A couple more sessions and he would be done and he and May would get on with their lives

That was all he would need, right?

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**A/N ****The last chapter was so short because it was a prologue of sorts. This one is short because I had you all waiting so long and this is all that I have time to add at the moment. Stay tuned! Updates will be much faster in the future. Because of all I went through with this chapter, it's kind of all over the place. The next ones will be far more organized. Sorry about that. I wanted to go over it a bit more. But I've had you all waiting so long that I decided to just post the chapter anyway. Because of this, there will probably be mistakes. Again, I'm sorry about that.**

**And by the way, THANK YOU! I so appreciate every single review! I received so many and I am very thankful to each a****nd every one of you (really, ****_all_**** of you). I sincerely hope that you will continue reviewing and that I will do your expectations justice. Thank you for reading.**

**In case you were wondering what happens when I rewrite, here is the same scene written afterwards which was in Misty's view rather than May's. Some of the quotes may be different, and some of the thought processes may be the same. Feel free to see this as an addition to the chapter as it all ties in, in the end.**

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Misty's View:

Misty's feet hit the concrete outside the building a step or two behind Ash. May was already outside, standing on the large top step and staring off into the distance where Drew had disappeared. For a moment Misty felt so wretched for her that she wanted to say something but May took a brave step down the stairs and the moment was over.

Ash didn't need the moment to stand still to offer his concern, When May paused again at the bottom of the short staircase he leaned in towards her right to see her down turned face and frowned.

"Alright?"

May pursed her lips and shrugged.

Misty sighed and scaled the stairs behind them, coming to rest to Ash's left. It hadn't been a good idea. She knew it hadn't so why had she pushed it with them? Drew was so much like her, especially when she had been a younger teenager. She didn't know what she would have done if Ash had tried to drag her in to see a counselor, concerned for her mental state. She would have been annoyed certainly, but anger may have even been a part of her reaction. You just couldn't question a person's mental stability without hurting them somehow. Even for good reasons, there were so many ways that it could be taken, and most were self-depraving. And judging by Drew's reaction, he hadn't found it the best course of action either.

But then again why would he as the patient?

Ash brought her out of her thoughts when he attempted to give May a boost again. May stood silently and offered him half smiles that did nothing to relieve Ash of his constant internal nag that told him to help everyone and everything (Misty had discovered this part of Ash quite early in their journey together).

Misty's eyes strayed to their right and she frowned. There was a fountain. She supposed that it might have been beautiful to an architect or a historian. To her it only filled her with annoyance and concreted her feelings that Drew shouldn't be there. The fountain featured a large flat dish shape, on top of which was a bulb that spewed water. Beneath the dish was the form of a young girl (much larger than life size of course, but the form showed that it was in fact a child's body). The girl's hands were behind her supporting the dish, her body hunched forward as if to show the weight it put on her. And then showing from over her shoulders were the shapes of wings. The feathers were crushed beneath the large disk, and if she looked closely Misty could see the pain in her expression.

She supposed that it was probably meant to be symbolic, showing that anyone could come here and release the burden they were carrying, but she only felt distaste and annoyance. No one wanted to think of themselves as a crushed and hurting child, especially not one so close to being a man, like Drew.

May looked at the statue as Misty did and frowned. Her eyes kept straying to the wings, to the great detail in each crushed feather. Some were hard to see through the water splashing over her back, but what she could see was quite intricate. She couldn't help but think of what the girl might be feeling, helpless, holding so much on her small back. Unable to break free or fly anymore. She could see the symbolism. It made her want to wrap the girl in her arms and tell her that it would be alright. That someday her wings would heal fully and she would fly again. The feeling raised her own feeling of helplessness with Drew. She would like to do the same thing with him, but he didn't know what he was carrying yet. He hadn't yet recognized the burden on his own back, and he wouldn't understand her concern. She thought of his expression as he had left. She looked at the girl intently and couldn't help but compare her to Drew. She had to wonder if they were actually helping Drew, or if they were only pushing him deeper into his own world, pushing him away from them and making him feel even more alone.

Crushing his wings.

"It's okay, May."

May blinked at the words but Ash only gave her a half smile. "Really. He'll get over it. It's to be expected. It's going to be hard for him, but he'll be alright."

Somewhat warmed by these words, May smiled sincerely and nodded in comfort. "Okay..." she whispered.

Misty looked at them both and frowned, placing her hands on her hips in more of a thinking posture than scolding. "Maybe this isn't what he needs."

Both Ash and May looked at her in surprise. May's face was a mask of concern while Ash's was one of simple but wary confusion. "Why?" He asked, sincerely wondering.

Misty bit her lip, gaze wandering to the ground in thought. She shrugged. Ash took note of the fact that she suddenly looked a lot less confident then she usually did. "He reminds me...of me...sometimes," she admitted softly.

Ash blinked. "Of you? How?"

May only watched with bated breath.

She shrugged. "Well, if you had pulled me in there at his age I would have fought it. I don't think I would have even shown up."

Ash only stared. Finally he stated. "So where's the similarity?"

Misty looked up with a look of annoyance. "I'm saying that he's going to fight it. He might have shown up, but they can't help him if he won't let them. That's probably why he came out early. And if they can't help him all he's going to do is resent _us_ because we pushed him in there."

There was silence for a moment and then Misty whispered. "I'm just not sure it's worth his friendship."

May looked back to the ground, her shoulders coming around herself. She had been nervous about it to start with. None of them had really dragged him in on their own. They had all gleaned support from each other with the idea and given him little pushes. But all together it was enough. Tears sprang to her eyes at the thought of loosing him altogether. And Misty was right. Drew was stubborn. What if she _was_ hurting him more than helping?

Misty's eyes widened at the shudder that ran through May, tell-tale signs of tears. "It's alright," she stated quickly, feeling badly at upsetting her. "Let's just give him some space. Ash is right. If he wants to go back, he'll go back."

May wanted to run to him and apologize and tell him there was no pressure on him to do anything that he didn't want to do, but something held her back. She glanced to the statue, to the great burden and the pain on the girl's face. Despite all of their words, a part of her knew, Drew did need this. He just didn't know it yet.

It would be worth it, she told herself. She hoped.

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**A/N And there you have it. Thank you for reading. I promise to update faster. Please continue to review for me. I appreciate every review. Thank you so much! I promise to give a great story that will keep you reading if you stick around. A lot to promise, but I'll try for you! :)**


	3. A Simple Change

**A/N I realize it's very short, but in order to make fast updates I may have to do this. I'm getting ready to get a beta so that I have someone to look over my updates for me because I do not have time to do so myself. There may be mistakes in this chapter, but I hope you all like it!**

**Enjoy and please take the time to review! Thank you everyone!**

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Drew glared at the building.

He knew he shouldn't. He had decided to suck it up and walk in with a stride, confident and ready to take the criticism the counselor was sure to send him. He would sit and listen and talk back until every one of those "issues" were marked off the stupid list that were probably being notated on that stupid pad.

So why couldn't he open the door?

Again Drew looked over the building. He had to lean back to do so. The building was tall and square with rows and rows of windows lining its brick walls. Were it not for the welcoming words above the door (large and curved so that you could see them from the street) stating, "Welcome To La'Rouse Clinic – We Strive To Serve," and the landscape, the building would have made Drew think of an old fashioned orphanage or an insane asylum. Either one would have had him running, though he would rather not admit that to anyone. Both ideas made him sick to his stomach.

Drew turned once more to take in what separated the building from these ideas. Green grass expanded around the building, a long stretch both width wise and length wise. The steps below his feet connected to old fashioned cobble stone sidewalk that continued from him to the gate. And on your right when entering the grounds was the angel statue, on even at night. All three areas helped calm his nerves, so he ignored the negative facts surrounding them (the gate was connected to a thick brick wall that stretched all around the ground, the cobble steps were old, the angel statue looked pained), straitened his posture, and pushed open the door.

The first thing he thought when entering the lobby were the questions, "What was I thinking? Why am I doing this to myself?" His feet paused on the waxed floor, one tilting slightly towards the door he had just come from. The room smelled strongly of wax and faintly of a familiar perfume he couldn't name off the top of his head. It was enough to bother his nose, but not enough to use for an excuse to leave. Down the hall the secretary looked up and noticed him. She gave him a smile and a warm wave and continued to her work when she realized that he still wasn't moving. There were only two doors in the hallway, one to the left of her desk when standing before it, and one all the way at the end of the hall. It was the one at the end that taunted him. He once again thought of all of the windows and tried not to think of what may have once been behind them. His thought process quickly began to go downhill from there. It was ridiculous he knew, he wasn't superstitious in any way, so none of this should matter to him. Taking confidence in the thought, Drew finally straitened and neared the desk. As he came to stand before it the woman looked up at him and smiled. "You're here to see Doctor Swarren?"

Drew kept the automatic reactions that wanted to surface at bay and nodded, adding a smile for good measure. "Yes, I am."

The woman smiled politely back. She had quite a pretty smile, Drew thought faintly...

Then she handed him a small piece of paper with the number "23" on it. "He's in room twenty-three, dear."

The "dear" threw him off. Drew's face did twist this time, but still he nodded and entered the building through the doorway down the hall.

Doctor Swarren's room was only a hop down the hallway. Drew remembered it from the first visit but understood the reminder. Stopping outside the door Drew gathered himself and knocked. The door was quickly opened. Doctor Swarren smiled kindly and stepped back to let Drew into the room. He was wearing a suit, the jacket thrown over the back of his chair, but his outfit still seemed to stuffy for their meeting. Instead of sitting in the two chairs across the room as he had with Drew on their first meeting, he made his way to his desk and sat behind it. "Take a seat." He motioned to the chair before the desk.

Drew sat, confusion mounting, this didn't seem like a normal session.

The man sat behind his desk stared at Drew for a moment with kind blue eyes then sighed. Drew only became more confused. The man opened a drawer on the right of his desk and pulled out an envelope. reaching across the desk to hand it to Drew.

Softly, Drew took the envelope from his outstretched hand. He nearly missed the frown as he turned the letter over to see the seal. His eyes narrowed. Looking up with narrowed eyes he stated, "This letter is from here."

The man nodded. "Yes it is."

Drew blinked. "But it's sealed." When the man didn't answer Drew went on. "What is it?"

With a sigh the man dropped his hands to the desk from the position they had been in under his chin. "It's a letter of approval. I'm afraid...I think I've reached my limit of what I can do for you here."

Drew's eyes widened. He sat stunned for a moment. He had reached the limit? They had only had one session! Did that make any sense at all? But one question reigned prominent and so it came out first. "But you said this..." Drew paused to turn the letter in his hands. "...was a letter of approval?"

"Yes it is." He explained quickly. "I'm turning your case to Doctor Vanrae. He's a very experienced psychologist and I think you'll like him very much. He isn't much older than you and he has a great record of pleasing his patients. I think you'll get along very well."

Drew turned his attention back to the letter, unsure as to how to take the news. Somehow it sounded easier to speak to someone closer to his age, while at the same time it all just seemed wrong. Why would he need to switch doctors? Was there something wrong with him?

Drew began to berate himself for thinking there was something wrong with him, but Doctor Swarren must have noticed his inner conflict. He spoke softly. "Why don't you try one session with him? If you don't appreciate his service then you have more than enough right to opt out. Not all therapists are right for the guests. Just let our secretary know and she will set you up with a new doctor."

Feeling satisfied with having no other choice, Drew nodded. "So then..." he looked up, "...shall I go now?"

The man looked at Drew intently for a few moments, as if trying to communicate something, but Drew was unsure as to what so they only sat in uncomfortable silence. Finally he pursed his lips. "Yes, you may go. His room is on the top floor. Room two-fourteen."

Drew stood and turned to go then jumped when he felt his hand pulled. He turned back around and couldn't help his shock at the position of his previous doctor. The man had practically jumped across his desk to reach him. his stomach pressed tightly to the wood and his arm outstretched to its capacity to keep him from leaving. His grip was tight. Too tight, and his eyes flickered with an intensity Drew found completely unnerving.

"Make sure you think about it."

The words coming from the mouth of such an intense face made Drew jump. But the man went on, grip tightening further. "If you don't like him, switch doctors."

Drew stared back with wide eyes. His hand twitched in the grip of the other's, his fingers already going numb. "Drew." he stated firmly when Drew's eyes strayed to their locked hands in discomfort. Drew looked back to him warily, though not fearfully.

"Make _sure_ you think about it."

Drew gulped and nodded, and slowly the grip loosened. Drew stepped back then turned and hurried from the room.

The trip to the top of the building was riddled with his thoughts. What had just happened? Why the intensity? Without realizing it, Drew's hand massaged the wrist that had been painfully grabbed. Why would he give the new doctor so much praise then tell him so forcefully to carefully consider it?

It wasn't until he had reached the top floor and was standing in front of the door that he read the door's plaque and realized it.

He was going to a _psychologist_.


	4. Victor Vanrae

Chapter 4: Victor Vanrae

**A/N I've decided to make this story AU. Usually I don't do AU because I think less people read it, but I think you guys will really enjoy it anyway. Let me know what you think of this chapter! The drama will be coming in soon.**

**I've been given indication from a couple of people that not everybody is getting the updates for this story. If you are one of these, please check out my twitter. The twitter is just for this account and I post my updates as I finish them. To find my twitter account, please go to my author page and scroll to the bottom of my profile to find a link. If facebook would be better for you then let me know. I may make a facebook for this account as well if anybody prefers it.**

**Thanks everyone! I worked very hard on this chapter! I hope you like it!**

**Please review! It means a lot. :)**

* * *

"Come in."

Drew's harsh breathing echoed in his own ears as he pushed open the door. He noticed instantly that this man's room was much more warming than his previous counselor's had been. There was no desk, something Drew found strange. Instead against the room was a vast wood bookshelf that covered the entire wall. Two leather chairs sat before it, a coffee table between them and a simple red rug on the floor. Two cups of coffee sat on the table, their smell reaching him even from the door. And against one wall was nothing but windows, no space surrounding them. The entire town was viewable from the point, as well as the grounds of the building they inhabited, and the view was beautiful.

Without conscious thought, Drew found his feet entering the room. He didn't even think about the fact that the voice had to have come from a person when he walked past the door and was startled from the same voice on his left. "Take a seat."

To his left was a man, his new psychologist he assumed. He was quite young, as the other had told him. He wore no suit, which Drew found strange but comforting. Instead he wore comfortable and a long sleeved button-up tan shirt. He glanced briefly up at him from his work and Drew saw that the man had green eyes just like he did, though his were more narrow, the eyes of an analyst. When he looked down again strait blond hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. The hair fell perfectly without trying though didn't look combed or swept back. Drew knew from experience that the hair had more work behind it than it would appear to others. There were many things to use to keep hair that orderly looking and naturally healthy.

The man stepped back from the table he had been leaning over (though there was no chair) and abandoned the books and papers he had been leaning over to look at Drew fully. He smiled lightly, a handsome smile that was perhaps more mature than his age and approached Drew calmly. Usually Drew felt stalked when someone approached him to help him, but this man came at him calmly with an air of another man a couple years older than he (like the person he was) rather than the psychologist he claimed to be. When he was mere feet from Drew he pulled his hands up under his shirt to his hips and looked pointedly down Drew's apparel. Drew couldn't help the automatic reaction that came. He stiffened, wondering if he was wearing the right apparel and if he measured up in the man's eyes. It was something that just came with the age. A high school response. You always compared yourself to the well-dressed. They knew what they were doing. But so did Drew.

Drew tilted his chin up and stared back firmly. After a moment, the man chuckled and dropped his hands from his hips, instantly brightening the mood, and stretched forward a hand to greet him.

"Victor."

Drew was immediately thrown off by the first name. He blinked then couldn't help the smile. He preferred this to the overly professional feel of his last doctor. He wasn't fragile and he didn't need to be treated as a child. This man seemed to understand that already.

Still a bit grudgingly, Drew met the handshake.

When Drew didn't supply his name, Victor smiled and raised an eyebrow as he made the comment, "I know who you are. Swarrenson has told me a bit about you."

Drew blinked. Swarrenson? Wasn't it Swarren?

But the man moved on before Drew could comment and he decided it didn't really matter. He passed Drew and headed for the leather chairs across the room from them. Without turning around he stated, "but he didn't tell me that much about you. Perhaps you can fill in some gaps."

Drew was immediately reminded that this was a session and not merely a friendly meeting. But the attitude of the man, almost as if he could care less what Drew told him, helped him to relax. He would honestly rather tell the problems to someone like this then someone who stared at him intently and offered to "fix him."

Drew hesitated and Victor sat in the seat on the right. He picked up a cup of coffee and glanced at Drew. "Come join me." Drew once again felt the unnerving feeling of so much attention on him, but then the man's eyes dropped back to the coffee and he stated without looking up. "I got some for you. I obviously don't know what you like yet, so I went with something generic. If you hate you don't have to drink it." He sipped his and smiled wryly, looking up at Drew. "But it _is_ good."

The comment was just what Drew needed to drop the tension and get him moving.

Drew sat in the chair next to the man, immediately noticing that the seat was very comfortable but taking note that it was in a "new leather" sort of way, rather than the posh comfort of the other office.

Victor watched Drew shift on the seat then stated. "It's a bit unorthodox, but I like leather. And I find that other people like it as well so I can't see why it's not more used."

Drew felt a smile rise to his face. He could already tell by the way the man was breaking his own rules without _really_ breaking them that he was going to find it much easier to talk to this man then the other.

"Alright then." Victor set his coffee down.

Drew felt his heart jump to his throat before he could stop it. He could do this. He _could_ do this.

Victor smiled. "What do you think of football?"

Drew blinked. "Uh...football?" He repeated eloquently.

A ghost of a smirk appeared on the man's face. "Football. The American sport of course, not the rest of the world's take on it."

"The rest of the world's...?" Drew began to trail off then shook his head to clear it. He was completely stumped. Why were they talking about football? Would he calm down just long enough to be asked a question about himself? It seemed like a good tactic to help to calm him down.

The man frowned. He looked at Drew strangely then stated calmly. "I _would_ like to get to know you. What do you think about football?" Then with a raised eyebrow he stated, "or are you not into sports?"

Drew felt his face heat barely, but the question pulled him into the conversation. Making a wry expression Drew nearly bit his lip before he caught it. He glanced away and realizing he was talking to his doctor admitted, "I've never been the best at sports."

Victor blinked and once more looked over Drew's frame, then he smirked. "No, not with that form."

The heat returned to his face, though a bit of it was irritation, and Drew turned back to him in shock at the brash remark. Victor quickly waved him off and reached for his coffee again, taking a sip before he stared across the room and said calmly. "Don't worry about it. Honestly, I'm not much of a football fan myself. Running through the mud with a ball just to get pulverized by the first person to reach you isn't exactly my idea of a great game. I respect it. I mean, I'm American after all. But it's not something I plan to participate in."

Drew was taken by surprise. What a ... strange look on the sport. Drew felt a smile forming. He would get along with this man just fine.

"So..." Victor glanced at him with the coffee just under his lips. "Any other sports you enjoy watching? Maybe not playing, but you know."

"Um...baseball. A little bit."

A laugh came from Victor. Drew's brow came together. Setting down the cup beside him he stated, "you _would_ like baseball. You look like one. Completely boring to watch unless you're a runner."

Drew frowned. "Baseball is the single most watched sport. I can sit through most sports. The only really boring one to watch is soccer."

Victor paused, stumped, then admitted thoughtfully, "I suppose that's true." Then he shook his head. "Alright, different subject. Music?"

Drew happened to love music, but only select styles and bands, and most were not very well known. It was a subject of embarrassment at times as many didn't care for his style in the least.

Drew shrugged. "Well...instrumentals. I like...music that..." he paused, biting his lip subconsciously, unsure as to how to explain it. "Well, music that means something," he finally stated decisively.

"Interesting. Explain." Victor didn't look critical, rather he looked curious.

Drew tried to think of the most least embarrassing way to explain it. "There's a lot of music that doesn't really mean anything. I mean, it has a beat, but that's about it. And it's the most popular of music. I don't understand it, honestly. I don't listen to music for a beat, I listen to it..." For what? He wasn't really sure. "I don't know. My mother grew up in England. She listened to lots of classical music. I guess she passed some of her tastes onto me."

Victor stared at Drew patiently as he tried to gather his thoughts and Drew felt his face flush. How strange did he sound?

Victor nodded. "I'm like that too. I don't see the point in listening to music that doesn't stir some kind of emotion or thought." He shrugged. "Might sound femme. I don't really care. The most intelligent people in the world feel just like you and I do about music. That's why classical music is used so much in the development of children. It's a proven tool to increase brain capacity. It just shows that your head is in the right place."

Drew had honestly never heard quite that much about classical music. "It's really used that much?"

Victor nodded. "Yep. Have you ever heard of mothers playing Mozart for their babies?"

Drew nodded, the pieces coming together.

Victor nodded. "It's just like that. Top students are often gifted musicians, and serious studious parents require their children to play instruments. My parents were one of those couples. I play five instruments."

Drew blinked. "Wow..." he muttered. "That's quite a bit."

He nodded, his face twisting. "Honestly it was a pain. I switched instruments every few years but I still had to keep up learning the others. I play them well now, but I don't really like to. I'm in a group so I still play the violin. It's the only one that keeps me coming back. It's always invigorating to play. And the piano...I still play the piano." He glanced and Drew nervously. "Women like a man who can play." Drew swallowed his amusement and simply nodded instead.

He paused, as if unsure if he should go on. "I finished high school when I was fourteen. Started college at fifteen. That in an of itself isn't really amazing. People seem to think it is but it isn't. Anyone can start at sixteen. If people would just start, a lot of them could do it. At twenty-three, last year actually, I had my degree."

Drew stared, putting the pieces together. "Twenty three? But that means you were in school for eight years."

"Yep. I'm a psychologist. I have a Psy.D."

Drew frowned a bit. "You may not think that's a big deal, but just the fact that you finished in only eight years says something."

Victor looked at Drew in honest surprise, then smiled that same posh smile and gave a little laugh. "Nah. It just means I really liked the subject. I enjoyed going over all of the ideas of the different ways people think. I don't really consider it a fix to mental sickness like others do. There are just lots of different ways to consider things."

Drew frowned slightly. While he loved the idea and the thought process of the man before him, he had to wonder, how could a psychologist think like that? How could they set your problems strait if they did? Then he remembered his counselor's words, "... _he has a great record of pleasing his patients."_

"How old are you then?"

Drew startled out of his thoughts. "I'm seventeen."

The man nodded, taking another sip of his coffee thoughtfully. Drew wanted to ask if he shouldn't have already known that before the man went on. "Birthday?"

"September fifteenth."

"Oh. So not far. Two months isn't it?"

Drew shrugged. "Guess so."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Do you not care about your birthday? You know you'll be an adult?"

Drew shrugged once more. "I emancipated myself when I was fifteen. I don't really care what the official records say. According to all legalities, I've been an adult since then.

Victor stared at him for several long moments. "That had to have been hard," he finally muttered.

Drew shook his head. "It was easier. That's why I did it." But he didn't explain past that.

"Hmm," Victor muttered thoughtfully. He glanced at his watch and stood. "Well, I guess we're done here. I have an opening tomorrow if you'd like to come in."

"...That's it?"

"Yep. Look, I'm well aware that you're not crazy, so I'm not going to treat you like you are. And according to you, you've been an adult for a long time, so I'm sure you know how to handle yourself. The only reasons Doctor Swarrenson passed you on to me were because I'm close to your age and I'm better with the younger people." He gave a smile. "See, those counselors downstairs? Most of them think that they need to coddle you till you talk to them. But that doesn't work with people like you, men especially." He shrugged and looked away. "That's why I do it this way. Most teens come to me and find that they appreciate being able to talk when they want to instead of being waited on like a child." He waived Drew off lightly as he had earlier that day. "I was a teen a couple years ago. I know how it goes. It's hardly different from being my age."

Realizing Drew was still sitting, he held out a hand to him. Drew had never accepted a man's hand to stand, and for good reason. Most men wouldn't extend that hand. But with no one to see, Drew found him accepting the hand of someone who might be a friend with no complaint.

Victor smiled as Drew took the hand and stood before him, and took his own hand back naturally. "Nice to meet you Drew. Do you work tomorrow?"

Drew shook his head.

"Come in at eleven?"

"Sure, I guess."

"Then I'll see you then." He smiled. Looking back to the coffee table he frowned, the first frown Drew had seen on his face, and picked up the coffee that Drew had yet to touch. "Take this with you. It's a gift. You know..."

He held it up and Drew took the cup from his hand. Victor was smiling now, and Drew wasn't sure at what point that frown had changed, but he shook it off.

"Sounds good. I'll see you then."

Victor nodded and waved. "See you then."

As Drew shut the door behind him, he saw Victor move back across the room, probably to return to the work that Drew had interrupted, with no complaint.

As Drew exited the gate and started down the sidewalk back home, he couldn't help the feeling rising in his stomach. He had entered expecting so much more to go wrong. It was a feeling of relief but also buzzing excitement. He could get through this so much easier than he had thought. It was still awkward, but with this new psychologist... it might not be so bad.

Drew smiled and changed direction.

* * *

May was trying hard not to roll her eyes when she heard the knock at the door. It was Ash's house so she looked to him, waiting for him to realize that someone was waiting. When he only continued to argue his case with Misty, completely unaware, May finally rolled her eyes and rose from the couch.

Misty and Ash could still be heard in the background (not quite fighting, but definitely arguing) when May opened the front door. May smiled the moment she took in the green hair.

Drew barely had a chance to take a breath so he could try and come up with something to break the ice when suddenly May's arms were around his neck. Drew jumped and held the coffee out to his side quickly. May pulled back with a smiled. "I didn't know you were coming! Come on!" Drew found the hand not holding the coffee grabbed and he was dragged into the house.

Ash and Misty were standing opposite each other, debating their current topic of choice (because really, when did it even matter?). Ash saw Drew out of the corner of his eye and let his response trail off. Misty, seeing the reaction, did the same and turned to find a smiling May and an awkward Drew.

There was silence in the room for a few moments, then Ash collapsed to the nearest chair and crossed his arms. Misty gave Drew a smile, as big as she could muster while worried about his reaction. "Alright?" She asked quietly.

Drew looked away and shrugged with an air that stated the current problem wasn't really a problem at all and Misty smiled. "Great." She turned to glance at Ash who looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "I'll be right back."

He nodded and she headed off to the kitchen. Normally May would have had to fight to not roll her eyes again at the way Ash leaned without realizing it to watch her go. But today her attention was all on Drew. She turned to look strait at him as they neared the couch and fell into it beside him. "Are you okay?" She asked nervously.

Drew sighed, realizing there were going to be a few of these questions. He suddenly realized how much his friends cared for him and felt a little bit badly about the way he had treated them and not followed up with them. It was just too awkward of a thing to do. But now, seeing the concern in May's eyes, Drew managed to spill a bit.

"They transferred me to a new doctor today."

May's eyes widened for a moment. Drew was unsure if he should have told her or not. "You went back?"

Drew controlled the way he wanted to shift and look away. "Yeah, I did."

The question was on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to ask him why, what had prompted him to return. But she knew that would only increase his discomfort, so she settled for the next reaction struggling to come over her and smiled. "That's great! I'm so proud of you!" Then her expression hushed and she winced. "How was it?"

Drew shrugged, a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Not bad."

May blinked, and the smile was back. May knew that Drew's "not bad" could only be translated in so many ways.

Across the room Ash nodded, looking between the two. "That's good, I guess. Honestly we weren't really sure how you would take it in the first place."

Ash had always had a thing for brute honesty, but where it would make many uncomfortable Drew found it comforting. Ash stated what he really meant (though he had learned some tact) and what he said, he thought. Drew knew there was no hidden criticism coming from him.

"Well, the new guy...I like him I guess. I mean..." he winced. "...in as much as you can say something like that. The session with him went a lot better then the last one. I like his approach more... He's not treating me like there's something wrong with me." Drew almost muttered the last part.

May frowned, realizing a bit of what Drew had been going through. "I'm sorry, Drew," she started. "I wasn't sure if it was a good idea in the first place but I thought it might help..."

Drew sighed. "It's fine. Really, don't worry about it."

May pursed her lips and nodded, a small smile coming to her face. "But I'm glad," she went on. Drew looked at her in confusion. "I'm glad you've found someone you can talk to."

Drew blinked. May looked nervous as Drew tried to decipher what was behind her words. Then he smiled. "Yeah."

"And dinner!"

The three jumped as Misty's voice came back into the room. Ash looked up and immediately paled, pulling the nearest throw pillow up to cover his face and shield him at arms length. "No! Misty's cooking! She's trying to kill us all!"

Misty pursed her lips in annoyance and set the tray down, grabbing her own throw pillow and chucking it over Ash's so it bounced off his head. May stifled a laugh.

"For your information," Misty started with a light dust on her cheeks, "it's all store bought." Ash dropped the pillow as if relieved and Misty pinned him with her gaze. Ash once again froze. "And for your _further_ information, if I had wanted to kill you I would have done it long ago and you wouldn't have seen it coming. You don't need to cook the food to poison it."

Ash's expression twisted. "True..." he admitted thoughtfully. Then he smiled. "But then you wouldn't even _need_ to poison the food if you had cooked it."

Misty frowned and May grabbed the pillow beside her, quickly placing her head in it to stifle her own laughter. Drew watched her with a smile, drawn back into the present as Misty handed him a bowl of soup then set one on the coffee table in front of May. When she reached Ash she held the bowl in her hand, as if contemplating if she should even give it to him or not.

Ash frowned, his eyes going from Misty's expression to the bowl in her hand. When she didn't move he held his hand out to accept it. Misty pulled back to herself and took a sip of the soup. Ash's mouth opened in surprise. She nodded to herself. "It _is_ good. But considering you don't want any food that I've handled I guess you won't be needing any."

Ash watched her turn away and head for the nearest chair with surprise.

May had ducked over the throw pillow to watch the two of them.

Ash moaned. "_Misty_! That's not fair."

Misty shrugged. "Don't worry about it. Go cook your own food so you can guarantee it poison free. Who knows, I could have poisoned the whole batch!"

Ash watched her take another sip and pursed his lips. "Obviously it's fine as you're eating it."

Misty frowned. "And would that be the only indication that it's edible?"

Realizing they were on the edge of another fight rather than banter, Ash groaned. "Fine!"

Misty watched him head to the kitchen with a satisfied smile and May's laughter finally quieted.

Drew looked at the three of them as Ash walked away without a glance to him and felt a certain sort of comfort. Nothing had changed. No criticism to be found. He could do this.

Glancing at May he smiled again, thinking of her warm welcome, and she was obviously the most concerned. Whereas he had been nervous to speak of his sessions to them before, now he thought he might be able to.

Just a little.

With nothing more to watch May turned back to Drew and looked down at his hand. "What's that?"

Drew looked at the cup. "Oh. Coffee."

May raised an eyebrow. "You bought coffee?"

Drew shrugged. "It was from my session."

May blinked. "He gave you coffee?"

Drew looked at her with a thin film of annoyance. "Didn't I just say that?"

May stuck her tongue at him. "Well sorrrry. It's just weird is all. I didn't think they usually gave food at sessions."

Drew looked to the cup in his hand. "Maybe because it's a drink?" He offered blankly.

May smiled and shrugged. "Maybe. How is it?"

"I'm . . . not sure."

"You haven't tried it yet?"

Drew shook his head.

"Let me."

May reached and took the cup from Drew (who let her take it in his surprise), and took a sip. She smiled, with a delighted expression. "It's really good! Try." She held the cup out to him and Drew looked at her in some speculation.

Sighing, he took a sip himself and blinked in surprise. "You're right," he muttered.

May smiled. "He has good taste."

Drew rolled his eyes. "It's just coffee, May."

May frowned. "I know that."

Drew continued to stare at his cup for some moments before Ash broke the silence by reentering the room with a sandwich and plopping down on the same chair he had been in before.

Misty frowned. "Ash, use a plate."

Ash pointedly ignored her and Misty rolled her eyes.

The four spent the rest of the night talking and playing games, as they sometimes did on Saturday night. When they tired of games, they switched to movies. Ash chose a scary movie that had the girls and him hiding under the blankets on the couch as Drew watched over them in exasperation.

"You're a girl, Ash," Drew muttered below the growling on the screen.

"Watch it pretty boy," came shakily from under the covers.

Drew shook his head and leaned back into the couch. Drew looked to his left and recognized that the shaky lump nearest him was May. He sighed. "It's just a movie, you know."

An annoyed sound came from the bundle.

A sudden squelching sound came from the screen. Drew turned back to it and frowned. "That's disgusting..." he muttered. The two nearest bundles to him stilled. The one on the far end shuddered and let out a squeak.

"Drew, be quiet!" came Misty's voice.

"What's the point in even having the movie on if you're all going to cower under the covers?"

"Shows what kind of a man you are!" Came Ash's indignant voice. "I'm here to aid two scared girls and you just sit up there without a care!"

Drew rose an eyebrow. "Because I don't care. It's just a movie." Then he smirked, "Good cover by the way."

An indignant sound came from the covers just as another sound that could only be so many things came from the screen.

"Again, disgusting. I vote movie change." Drew raised his hand and shakily two hands made their way out from under the covers to join him. "Ash?" Drew asked with a raised eyebrow.

Ash's ball seemed to shirk. "Like I care. Whatever they want just go with it."

Drew recognized the hidden emotion causing the small snap and smirked to himself. "Then by unanimous decision . . ." a light growl came from under the covers ". . . we shall change the movie. Drew tried to stand from the couch and found a shaky hand stopping him. Looking down it was easy to tell that the hand was May's. "Alright?" Drew could see the tip of her hair between the covers and the couch. The quick shake of her head was all he needed. "Come on then." Drew took her hand and started off the couch. May kept her eyes closed and let him lead till Drew had turned off the screen, then kept close to his side as Drew looked through the movies and turned on something decidedly more cheerful. Turning back to the couch, Drew took her hand again and pulled her behind him.

In the dark, it was impossible to see the blush on May's face as she let him lead.

On Misty and Ash's side of the couch Drew rose an eyebrow. They were both still underneath the covers, even as the new movie started.

"Still alone under the covers?" He stated.

Two annoyed sounds reached them. As the happy opening tune continued Misty began to peek over the covers and straiten herself. Ash took a moment longer to realize that Misty still wasn't under the covers with him and join them.

Drew smirked. "Ponce."

Used to the occasional British slang from Drew, Ash was quite familiar with this one. He quickly pulled his hat from his head and used it to swipe at Drew, who dodged the hand with a smile. Misty quickly pulled Ash back and flicked him over the back of the head. Ash growled at her and placed his hat back on his head.

Drew sat back on the couch with a satisfied smirk and looking strait ahead muttered the very English term, "Whipped..."

This prompted another struggle from Ash and a laugh from May. Nothing had changed.

Drew was glad to still be a part of it.


	5. Coffee

**A/N I completely forgot about my homework because I was writing this, but it's finished so I hope you're happy! XP**

**I'm sorry for the long wait. I work a lot and I barely have time to write. I'll try to update quicker. I've been working really hard on the development of this story and hit a little speed bump as I began to write this chapter. This is my third re-vamp, and each is completely different than the other, so I hope that you like it! The plot is almost completely finished so I shouldn't have a need to wait this long in the future or hit any more writer's block. :P You who have read this before are aware that I have no time at all to go over my writing (work and school kind of suck up the rest of my time), so I apologize if there are grammatical errors that bother you. ****Also, be aware that I wrote this in one go and finished at one in the morning. :P**

**I do have a new warning.**

**_Warning_: This story will include sensitive topics such as rape, psychological discomfort, and skewed morals. I have upped the rating for these reasons. This does not mean that this story necessarily focuses on inappropriate context, but I want you all to be aware that in order to make this real I will include the mental instability of a few characters throughout this story, and said characters may be irrationally confused and/or violent. If this sort of thing makes you uncomfortable I apologize. But you have been warned!**

**Where there is my warning, there is also _my promise_: I will do the best that I can to blow your mind. I will make all of the discomfort the characters throw out worth it and in the end I can only hope that you will be left with a feeling of intense satisfaction at having read such a pleasing story, one that, if you are looking for it, imprints the importance of certain morals, or simply a satisfying ending.**

**That being said, please enjoy. I do the best I can. While it may not measure up to others, I sincerely try.**

**Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Drew groaned, rubbing subconsciously at his temple with a tired arm. His head hurt. He never got headaches. Why today?

The world around him began materializing. Outside he could hear birds chirping. He vaguely wondered when he had opened the window but shook it off quickly. What was happening today? Oh right. He was seeing his psychologist again. Was that why he had a headache?

Drew groaned again and pushed himself up to his elbows, his sheets coming to pool around his waist. Blearily he looked around. Everything was the same. Same wood bookcase and dresser. Same wood floors. Same wood bed frame for a bed that was a bit too large for one person. Same old, same old.

So why did it feel different?

Again Drew winced. He rubbed at his forehead, shifting his weight to one arm as the pain lanced through him again. It wasn't unbearable, more like an annoying dull throbbing, enough to bother him but not enough to have him keeling. Deciding to simply be thankful for that, Drew rose from the bed.

Shifting tiredly he looked back at the bed. Usually he made it in the morning. He stared at it for a few moments before finally following through and doing just that, then heading for the bathroom. It wasn't a long process, preparing for the day (though it was perhaps longer than the average American teen's), but throughout it, all Drew could think about was what awaited him later that day. He couldn't help but feel nervous. It was something he had somewhat enjoyed the day before, but what about today? What was to say there wouldn't be an awkward question? What was to say that Victor wouldn't change his approach and delve into subjects he couldn't delve into himself?

Subjects he wasn't sure he could ever breach?

Before he knew it, Drew was starting out the door. The sounds the birds were making were much louder out here. Drew was used to it. He was an early riser by habit, though each day was started a bit carelessly. He didn't like waking up early in the morning, he just couldn't sleep in. No matter how tired he was, he was up by six if not earlier. It was one of the things that concerned May (though he had no idea why). Despite being used to it, it didn't stop the occasional annoyance that no matter what he did he woke up to loud, crazy birds.

He subconsciously pulled at the purple over shirt he wore, wishing it were longer. It was usually hot this time of year, but that morning was strangely chilly. Drew didn't like the cold, but ignoring it was impossible.

Eventually, thinking about his upcoming session became too much and he switched directions, starting towards Ash's house. He would have preferred May's, but Ash's was closer and they usually met up there anyway. He didn't want to be out in the cold any longer than he had to. Despite this Drew found his feet slowing outside a coffee shop. As May had mentioned the day before, Drew never bought coffee. On the days he was alone and no one was around to see, he would sometimes order tea. It was something he was self-conscious about but secretly loved (another thing he blamed on his English inheritance, never mind that it might not make much sense). But today he found himself pausing outside of a _coffee_ shop, his feet turning and slowly nearing.

He didn't know what he was doing. Drew entered the small shop interrupted only with the chime of a bell over the door, then wrapped his arms around himself and waited in line behind three others. Realizing what he was doing Drew dropped his arms and resumed a calmer demeanor. In a matter of moments he was before the counter. A boy stared back at him, no older than him with a bored expression. "What can I get for you?"

Drew's vision shifted slowly from the sign over their heads to the boy in front of him. He may as well of still been half asleep. He had no idea what he wanted. He didn't even know what it would be called.

Drew frowned, annoyed with himself. The boy stared back, an eyebrow rising. "What can I get you?" he repeated.

At a loss, Drew glanced over his shoulder at a man leaving the shop (who had been in line before him). He seemed happy with what he had purchased. It wasn't something Drew was used to doing but something still pushed him. For some reason, he wanted that coffee.

"I'll…get what he ordered." Drew motioned to the man.

The boy blinked in surprise then shrugged it off and nodded. "Alright then. Five fifty-three."

Drew paid then sat at a nearby table.

While he waited Drew looked around him. There were only three other people in the room: a couple a few tables away from him and a girl on the other side of the room near the window. The building had much to be desired. It was old, run down, and exactly the kind of place Drew spent his life avoiding.

He frowned, but before his thoughts could continue a cup came to rest in front of him. A girl with a bubbly smile (Drew could only guess what the cause of _that_ was) nodded at him and skipped back to the counter. Drew watched her go with a raised eyebrow, then shook some hair out of his eyes and looked back to his drink. Deciding not to think about it, Drew rose the cup to his lips. One sip was enough.

He set the cup back on the counter, staring at it in confusion and looking around the room. It hit him suddenly and forcefully. Why had he wanted this? What had he been expecting when he sipped the coffee?

What was he doing there?

Drew frowned deeply and stood, dropping his cup in the trash on the way out.

* * *

Ash opened the door with bleary eyes, dressed in nothing but shorts and a thin t-shirt, hand combing through his hair sleepily and frowned. "It's early, Drew."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "I'm aware."

With an annoyed sigh, Ash opened the door fully and wandered back to the living room.

Drew took the silent invitation and followed after him glancing around the house. "Where's Misty?"

Ash yawned, not even finishing before he attempted to speak. "At home of course." Messing his hair a bit more without realizing it he glanced back at Drew. "Were you looking for May?"

Drew blinked. "What do you mean?"

"She's upstairs if you were."

Drew felt himself freeze. For a moment he only stared at Ash, the air growing thick.

It shouldn't have mattered. It didn't even make any sense. But that fact was what confused him. What was May doing sleeping alone at Ash's house?

"May's here?" he whispered.

Ash blinked, his brow coming together. "Yeah."

It was that "yeah" that really threw him off. It was spoken in the same way Ash would respond should Drew ask him if he liked sports. The city guy version of the phrase "like-duh."

It said he should already know.

Drew blinked. His headache came back and he lifted a hand to rub at it. Trying to give a reason instead of acting clueless he stated, "Did she fall asleep here?"

Ash continued to stare at him. Though Drew knew it wouldn't continue much longer it bothered him. It was almost believable that he had been right in his first assumption. The thought made him frown and rush on. "Why is she here?"

Ash blinked at the slight edge coming into Drew's tone and couldn't help the frown that pulled slightly at his expression. "She fell asleep. You were talking and she was laughing. Really giggly. Then she just crashed. You were all weird and giggly for a minute there too and then you just got all quiet and went home and you . . ." Ash frowned, seriously beginning to look concerned. ". . . You really don't remember?"

Drew gulped. He felt as if the rug had been pulled out beneath his feet, leaving him to stumble for a few minutes at what had suddenly gone missing. What had happened last night? Drew strained his memory. The last thing he remembered was watching the movie. It would have made sense if he had fallen asleep there, but then he would have had to wake up and take himself home, and he had woken up in his own bed.

Drew could only stare in complete loss. If Drew didn't remember, did May? And wasn't that important?

Drew turned and started up the stairs instantly.

Ash reached out to stop him. "She's still asleep. May's not a morning person, you know that."

Drew frowned. "I know that."

He wondered if Ash was thinking the same thing as him. That this didn't make any sense. That they should be concerned for May.

His hand loosened on the staircase as he realized the senselessness of his own worry. May and him hadn't gone anywhere together. He hadn't seen her all day till he had arrived at Ash's house. If there was indeed something wrong with his memory, then it wouldn't make any sense for it to have affected May. It was insane for him to even wonder.

Drew frowned and released the stair case barrier, stepping down. "You're right."

Ash blinked at the way he had accepted the words so quickly, when he was usually so extremely stubborn. "Well… um yeah."

Drew comforted himself as they started over to the living room. He had seen May fall asleep in some pretty uncomfortable positions. Why had he connected their experiences?

So . . . what was wrong with _him_?

* * *

It was another two hours before May awoke. Drew distracted himself by talking to Ash (who wasn't very responsive in the beginning but began to keep up as they continued), and turning on his TV when Ash went to eat.

When May entered Drew smirked over at her. "Rough night?"

May blinked and lifted a hand through her hair to fix the mess. She was still in her day clothes from the night before and they had ruffled on her body to leave her _looking_ as bed-ridden as she was. Drew couldn't stop smirking.

It was the lack of response, the way May looked at him blankly (not quite awake enough yet to realize he was making fun of her), hair mussed around her head and shirt riding up on her hips that prompted the unexpected blush. Drew ducked and turned back to the TV., turning his head so May couldn't see his face,

May stared at him blankly a moment longer then started into the kitchen. Drew sighed and allowed himself to breath.

May was sleepy and distracted the rest of the morning until Drew left for his session. He frowned at her lack of interest, when she simply nodded, eyes still trained on the TV. It shouldn't have bothered him, but it did. It was so uncharacteristic of May that he couldn't help but wonder if something was wrong. But May didn't look at him again, and finally he left.

* * *

The birds were still chirping as Drew approached the building. The air was still cold, the fountain, rather than looking inviting, was gathering the softest of fogs around it, making it look eerie. Drew ignored it.

* * *

"Sooo…." Victor folded one hand under his chin. "What is it that bothers you about that?"

With nothing else to talk about, Drew had mentioned to Victor how strangely May had been acting. Victor had been quiet throughout Drew's story. When he was done, Victor stared at him with a vacant expression and asked _that_ question. It was so unexpected that Drew wasn't sure how to respond. But Victor continued to stare, so Drew pulled quickly for an answer.

"I guess it's just awkward. She was the one who really wanted me to come here. And she's so curious and into everything I do, I don't understand why she would suddenly loose interest."

Victor blinked slowly, staring at Drew carefully, and then shifted his eyes to the ceiling. He slowly breathed in, then muttered, "Yeah. I guess that is strange."

"Yeah . . . it is."

A moment of silence passed between them.

"Was there anything else you wanted to say about that?"

Drew shifted uncomfortably. Again, all of the pressure was on him. It was such a small thing, but he would rather it be conversation then him bringing it up because it was a problem. But still, now that he had started, something _was_ still bothering him.

"Well . . . "

Victor nodded at him encouragingly.

"What. . ." Drew took a quick breath. "Why do you think she would do that? I mean, what would make her loose interest that quickly?"

Victor pursed his lips and stared back at Drew with a look he couldn't decipher. He was thinking, Drew was sure of it; he just wasn't sure _what_ he was thinking about.

He was taken off guard when Victor smiled and offered his explanation. "She was tired?"

Drew blinked, then laughed. It was so obvious. So completely true. May wasn't a morning person, she never had been. Why had he been worried?

Drew shook his head and raised a hand to his eyes. "This 'mental' thing is really getting to me," he muttered in embarrassment.

Victor smirked good-naturedly. "It's natural to be nervous. You might just be feeling self-conscious about being here. People take things personally when they're self-conscious. No offense. It's just the mind's natural function when a person feels pushed or nervous about something."

Drew sighed, dropping his hand. "Yeah," he muttered. "I guess you're right."

Victor smiled. "I always am."

Drew shook his head.

"Coffee?"

Drew turned to the table and shrugged. "I guess so."

Victor nodded as Drew picked it up off the table. "Okay, so anything else? Anything else you consider strange?"

Drew hesitated. Did he want to tell Victor? A psychologist? He bit his lip, and this time he didn't stop, so into his thoughts. A deep breath and he bit his lip. "There was . . . one thing." Drew dropped the coffee back to his lap and shifted it in a circle, nervously fingering the ringed top with one hand.

"This . . . is going to sound weird."

Victor nodded.

"I think I was really tired last night or something. This morning-I mean, I woke up in my bed and didn't remember how I had gotten there. I mean, I know I walked to my house, and the door was locked and everything so I must have been alone. Ash told me he saw me leaving. But I don't remember . . . at all." Drew glanced up nervously under his hair. "Is that weird?"

Victor sat back in his chair and sat the coffee beside him. He lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his neck and sighed. "Well, usually people do remember things like that, at least vaguely. But you don't remember _at all_?"

Drew hesitated but managed to suck down his pride and shake his head "no."

Victor nodded. "Didn't your friend, May was it? Didn't she say that she was worried about your sleeping habits?"

Drew blinked and nodded.

"That could have something to do with it. What time was it when you went home?"

"Um . . . the movie started around eleven, so it was probably midnight or so."

"How early do you wake up?"

"Um, four twenty-five or six if I sleep in."

Victor stared at him curiously. "Four twenty-five? On the dot every morning?"

Drew looked away uncomfortably and nodded. "Yeah."

"Well, that's interesting. That's a very rare habit, to wake up at a specific time. Usually your body only does that if you condition it to."

Drew's left eye twitched and he looked away farther.

Victor leaned in his chair to look at him closely. "Why do you think you wake up at four twenty-five?"

The same eye twitched and Drew raised a hand quickly to rub at it, eyes closing. "How should I know?" he muttered.

Victor raised an eyebrow. "You should actually. Like I said, you have to make that a habit. Don't you remember conditioning yourself to do that?"

Drew was shifting in obvious discomfort, his hands gripping the coffee so the lid was close to coming off. His eye twitched and he rubbed at it again. This time when his eyes closed he stilled and didn't move again. A moment later he sighed and dropped the hand, looking at Victor full on. "I don't know."

Victor stared back, his lips pulled off to the side as if he wanted to say something but he controlled himself. "Alright then," he stated, sitting back fully in his chair. "Just think about it. If you discover anything you want to talk about then don't hesitate to come to me."

Drew nodded, looking away with a frown. Victor watched him rub his shoes together before he stilled. "Back to waking up early, that could be the issue. If you go to bed that late and wake up that early your mind could just be starting to go to bed before you do, figuratively speaking of course. Your mind needs that rest, and if you're not giving it rest, then it's going to take it anyway. Though usually it would do that by pushing you to get sick so you have to sleep."

"I've never been one to get sick," Drew interrupted. "Not even when I was . . . little."

Victor watched a strange look come over Drew's face as he trailed off, as if he were straining to remember something. He looked annoyed, but in the end he shook his head and looked back to Victor in embarrasment. "Sorry, go on."

"No problem," Victor replied, raising his hands. "Don't worry about it. I think your body might just need more sleep. I recommend getting on a sleeping schedule. Falling out of it like that could be a problem if you're walking yourself home often. As easily as you can make a habit to get up at a certain time, you can also make a habit to go to sleep. What do you think would be a good time for you?"

Drew blinked. He would have thought Victor would ask him if he wanted to go to bed early, but he was probably right. He did need it. Drew shifted his gaze to the ceiling, thinking. He always went to bed late. What time did he even _want_ to try for?

Drew pursed his lips and turned to Victor. "What do you think?"

"I would say ten. Eleven is too late, and nine is probably too early for you right now. Though if you continue to wake up at four you will want to start going to bed earlier. You should be getting at least eight hours of sleep at your age. Getting up at six would be best, but four will be livable, or at least better than going to bed at midnight."

Drew nodded slowly. "I guess . . . I could try that."

Victor nodded. "Perfect. I'll give you a few nights to try it out and then I'll ask you how it's going. Sound good?"

Drew shrugged. "Guess so."

"Perfect."

Drew looked down to his lap and tried to put the cap back fully on the cup. He looked up awkwardly. "It doesn't fit anymore."

Victor chuckled. "Just put it up here. You don't have to drink any more if you don't want to."

Drew paused with his hand half-way to the table, staring at the coffee. _". . . if you don't want to . . ."_ Drew frowned.

Victor watched Drew stare at the cup. "What's wrong?"

Drew blinked and looked up at him, still not moving his hand. "You're getting me to like this stuff," he stated, referring to the coffee.

Victor laughed, hair shifting as he did so. "Not a problem is it?"

Drew felt a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "I guess not."

Victor nodded with a smile. "Good."

Drew sighed and pulled the coffee back to his lap. He didn't realize till the session was over that he had finished the full cup.

The rest of the session was more joking than serious talk, and Drew enjoyed it immensely.

Though he shouldn't, he almost felt that he was gaining a new friend.

* * *

Drew dreamed of colorful smoke clouds and talking animals, things that made no sense to the real world but were commonly found in dreams. It wasn't until some time later that night that the dream changed, becoming very strange.

He was standing in hallway, a doorway some distance in front of him at the end of the hall. It was cracked, a red light shining from the crevices. The feeling he felt was daunting and eerie. He knew he didn't want to go into the room, that for some reason he was afraid to, but because it was a dream his feet moved on their own, dream Drew very aware that this _was_ what he wanted to do-that he had to know what was behind that door.

As he neared it he heard a voice that sounded very much like his mother's. _"Curiosity killed the cat,"_ she stated in a sniffing voice. _"Is that what you want Drew? To die like a little cat?"_

The voice did nothing to curb his dream self's curiosity but sent shivers through his chest, her voice like ice travelling down his spine. Driven almost by anger at her (he wasn't going to leave the door closed now that she had told him to), Drew flung open the door and stared in surprise. The room was dark, but bathed in a red glow. In the center of the room sat May. Before her was a table with a red ball centered upon it. The glow seemed to be coming from it.

Drew ventured near and sat in the only seat across from her. May stared at him vacantly. "Isn't it beautiful?" she whispered, looking a bit dazed.

Drew jumped mentally as he heard his own voice for the fist time. "Isn't what beautiful?"

He felt as if his words made no difference to the dream. May tilted her head, and as it was a dream, Drew didn't question the next abrupt change of topic. Dream people were prone to do such things."There's a man behind you."

Drew felt the shiver travel down his spine again. Slowly he looked over his shoulder but saw nothing. "There's no man," he stated quietly.

May tilted her head further, a confused expression coming over her face. "He's watching you."

Drew gulped, but shook his head stubbornly. "There's no man."

May's brow came together in annoyance. She looked down at the ball and raised her hands slowly touching the ball in front of her and tilting her head in the other direction. Slowly, she smiled. "Oh yes there is, and he's beautiful."

Drew frowned. "Beautiful?"

She nodded. "As beautiful as a man should be."

Drew wasn't sure what to think. Vaguely he began to consider that this was a dream. No man should be beautiful . . . but May did have a way of thinking strange things like that. And no dream had ever felt so real . . .

May looked up at Drew, hands still on the ball, and her mouth turned up into a smile. The red glow of the ball reflected in her eyes. For a moment Drew froze. May's eyes weren't _May_ anymore, in fact, they were something more mischievous.

"I bet you wish you were beautiful."

Drew's breath caught. He thought "what?" but before he could speak it, May had already begun to answer the question. Her eyes glinted.

"Don't you wish it? You could have been so beautiful."

Drew felt his throat close up. May's voice was underlined with another. A voice more mature, a voice definitely NOT May, a voice like . . .

. . . like her.

Drew gulped. He wasn't speaking to _May_. "What do you want?"

May's smile grew. "I just want you to be happy."

Drew glared. "I find that hard to believe," he whispered.

May didn't seem to hear him. "You can you know. You can be special and happy."

Drew continued to stare back angrily as she went on.

"You could be happy."

"I am happy," he stated stubbornly.

May frowned turning her head, then smiled. "I can see through you like the smoke in this ball. You're empty, lonely, aching for real acceptance." May frowned. "I can give that to you. Just do what I tell you to do. It's all for you. It'll all be worth it."

Drew's hands formed fists. "I'm done listening to you. I proved that a long time ago."

"Hmm. Yes you did, didn't you? Poor Drew, resulting to emancipation." May sighed. "What a fool."

Drew's fists clenched tighter. May looked down to them and smirked. Drew's gaze followed and he froze as he witnessed the blood trickling down his palms to the floor.

Slowly he looked back up to May, finding her staring at him intently, head tilted and frowning. She smiled. Drew found his breath catching. A smile like that should ever be on May's face. He jumped as she spoke.

"He's right behind you."

Drew spun. He barely caught the sight of blond hair before the man disappeared, smoke baring the place he had once been.

Shakily he turned back to May. Her eyes strayed to the ball.

Drew's eyes followed. The smoke began to form shapes and Drew couldn't look away, even as May began speaking again, her voice still underlined with that of a different woman.

"What will it take Drew . . . "

Drew's eyes widened as his own face mirrored back at him, and back to back to him was someone else, eyes shadowed, glowing red.

". . . for you to see what you really are?"

"What I . . ."

Drew met May's eyes again. She smiled. "Know this is real," she whispered. "Its origins make no difference. When you awake, you will remember me." Her smile widened. "And I will not leave your mind."

Drew woke, his ears ringing, his head spinning. He raised his hands instantly to clench his head tightly as it pounded, the most intense of headaches.

He groaned and turned onto his side, biting his lip and whimpering. It was several minutes before the pain was such that he could uncurl from the ball he had put himself in.

Flopping onto his back he laid motionless, his head spinning. In the darkness the ceiling still seemed to be going in circles. He thought of his dream. Some of it was a bit blurry, but the woman stood out starkly. Despite her appearance, Drew knew who she was. How she had clawed her way back into his head he wasn't sure, but he couldn't have been more upset. As his reason began to come back to him, Drew realized what he had almost thought of within his dream. It had been years since he had had a clear dream. Why today?

Blearily Drew looked over the clock and his eyes widened.

'Three forty-five.'

Drew stared at it in the dark, aware of the lack of birds outside his window and the absence of sun. When was the last time he had woken up _not_ at four twenty-five (or six exactly)?

He couldn't remember.


	6. Victor Runs Away

**A/N This was all thrown out in one go. It isn't gone over at all. I'm sorry! But I hope it explains some things and I hope you all like it! I don't have a lot of time on my hands so I'm going to try and post at any time that I can. I didn't have too much time for this update so I did the best that I could with what I had. :) Please review! **

* * *

Victor had spent the entire day listening to people complain about their lives.

He was sick of it.

It was easy to pretend that you cared, and he did really, in a way. But after a certain point in just became unbearable. One person could only listen to a certain amount of insanity before it started to get to them.

Two such patients had been driving him crazy, while one was just vaguely annoying.

The vaguely annoying patient was a girl by the name of Victoria. Upon their first meeting she had bonded with him over the similarities of their names. She was very open about her issues. Often she saw and heard things that she couldn't explain. Things like voices in her head and shapes in the shadows. Victor was fairly sure that she was suffering from a beginning form of schizophrenia. At first it had interested him, but after a certain point it just became annoying. She just wanted to vent. And their sessions became less about him actually helping her get over her problems and more about her just telling everything on her mind, like a counseling session.

Victor was used to waiting for patients who weren't ready to talk. His sessions were easy with those patients. They weren't comfortable talking and he had to . . . ease them into it. But with patients like Victoria, who wouldn't shut up about the most mundane of issues (issues that had nothing to do with their actual illnesses), it became exhausting.

He was always happy to see her go.

The other two patients were both men. Well, a man and a boy.

The man went by the name of Duncan. He was forty-two years old and constantly moaning about how his life was half over. Victor had tried to disagree with him. Forty years could be just under half, though he didn't state it that way. He was sure he could be stressed too with that mindset. The man was very clingy, and Victor felt a bit out of his element trying to comfort an older man. He would come by when his sessions weren't scheduled, and as terrible as it sounded, Victor just didn't have the patience for it.

To put it shortly, having unstable, emotional people leaning on you completely was tiring and overwhelming.

The other patient was a boy, though he seemed to think of himself as a man. His name was Drew. Seventeen years old and just on the verge of eighteen. He had a strong mind, a stubborn one. He trusted himself over others. It was that exact mindset that was driving him crazy. He would try to calm Drew with solutions, and though Drew would smile and nod, Victor could tell that Drew was marking off much of what he said completely. Later when he was alone, he would continue to think of his own solutions.

There were quite a few things wrong with that.

Victor sighed, bowing his head as he stared at the table before him. Scattered upon it were photos of his patients. A box sat alone in the middle of the table in which he had removed the photos. It wasn't as if he had taken them. They had the ID photos of all of their patients. Often he would stand before them, staring at a photo and thinking over a session, and the answer would just hit him, like a bolt of lightning the answer to helping the patient get over one of their problems would be there. But right now, his brain was burning, and he was ready to have a break.

Victor glanced up at the box, his head calming and sighed. Softly he collected the photos and opened the box, placing them on top of a white handkerchief and closing the lid.

He glanced at the clock and sighed. He just couldn't do this today. He needed a break. Victor placed his palms on the table and supported himself, breathing deeply. He couldn't cancel the session of his next patient. He never could cancel. They paid for the sessions. A lot of these people were required to take their sessions and organized their entire schedules around them. So he couldn't cancel.

So what to do?

He ran a hand through his hair, resting it back on the table when he was done, and glanced up at the ceiling. After a moment he blinked, then smiled. It was a terrible idea, but he would go crazy if he had to sit through one more session.

Victor fingered the lighter in his pocket then walked over to the large chairs and began to push.

* * *

Drew was in one of those dazes where the rest of the world doesn't exist when he reached for the handle of the door to the clinic; so pulled into his own thoughts that he didn't even see the woman beside him till they touched hands, both reaching at the same moment.

All at once they both jumped and spun to face each other. The woman Drew faced was very beautiful, with long black hair and blue eyes. She blinked wide eyes and ducked her head in embarrassment, curling into herself. "I'm so sorry," she whispered.

Drew blinked. "Oh…It's fine. I wasn't really paying attention," he admitted.

She looked up at him nervously and chanced a smile, still turned in on herself, clenching her purse to her chest. Drew frowned. "Where are you headed?"

"Um…to my session," she whispered in a light voice. "Doctor Swarren."

"Oh," Drew said in recognition. "That was my old counselor."

Drew watched some of the tension drop from her shoulders. She looked genuinely interested. "Really?" She smiled and glanced away, continuing in that same shy tone. "He's a great counselor. I really like him."

Drew recounted the discomfort he had felt with the man and came to the conclusion that different doctors really were better for different patients.

"Who…Who are you with now?" She asked turning back to him.

He smiled lightly, to help ease her. "I'm with Doctor Vanrae."

The woman's eyes widened. For several moments she just stared at him, then her eyes strayed over his form, down to his feet and back up again. Her mouth pulled and her eyes became sad as she glanced away. "No…I don't suppose you would have anything to worry about then…."

Drew's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

Holding tightly to her purse, her eyes strayed to him. She pursed her lips and shook her head.

"Not right for you?" he found himself whispering.

She looked away, her eyes narrowing. Drew watched her hands tighten. "No…"

Drew was captivated, curious, but realizing that this was a personal issue he stepped back and let her go. "Nice to meet you," he whispered.

She blinked and turned back to him then smiled softly. There was something in her gaze, something that Drew didn't understand. The kind of eyes that said "good-bye for good," but were reserved for someone you really knew.

Drew pursed his lips and took another step back, becoming uncomfortable.

Her eyes became only a little bit sadder and wandered back to the door, muttering the very words he had seen in her eyes. "Good-bye."

"Bye," he muttered as she continued past.

Drew watched her continue to her room before he started up to his. He was already almost to Doctor Vanrae's room before he realized that he hadn't checked in with the secretary. Dreading the long walk back down, he figured he would just tell Victor and inform the secretary on the way down. Or maybe Victor would call her. He didn't seem like the kind of person that would mind it.

When Drew knocked there was no response. He frowned, confused, and finally opened the door without a response. The room was empty. Remembering how Victor had caught him off guard on the first day, Drew turned to the other side of the room but didn't find him there either. The lights weren't on, but they never needed to be, not with the large windows covering the far wall. Drew shut the door behind himself and looked around in confusion. Should he stay? Should he go? Maybe Victor was running late or in the bathroom? It wasn't the common of things to happen with a psychologist. They were supposed to be waiting for you, but Victor had already proven that he was a bit unorthodox.

Deciding to wait a few minutes, Drew began to wander around the room. He glanced over book titles as he passed them. They were well used, many of them, showing that Victor spent quite a bit of his time buried in books. Most were valid to his occupation, but some were novels, something he found surprising. He wasn't sure why Victor would have them in his office, though he supposed it would be good when he became bored.

On random Drew pulled one off the shelf and read the title. "Indifferent Love," it read. Drew raised an eyebrow. A romance? He flipped it over and found it more to be a drama then a romance. All about a man with a lack of love for his counterpart, as well as for himself, and the road it led him down (though the summary did not say what road for a buildup of suspense). Surprised by his own curiosity he placed it back on the shelf, not curious enough to be caught reading it when Victor came in.

Glancing to the door and still finding him gone, Drew wandered over to the other side of the room. There were plenty other books, but he had looked at books enough and his subconscious was already looking for something more interesting to take in. He turned around to face the table. It was empty, save for a box. Drew stared at it, then shook himself. It was closed; obviously he shouldn't look at it. On the other hand, it was just a box.

Cursing his boredom and curiosity and taking note that the two did not mix well together, Drew pulled the box across the wood (it was resting on a burgundy cloth so it didn't scratch the wood surface), Drew lightly opened the lid. He blinked when he did, finding himself staring at a batch of photos. The one currently on top showed a man, probably twenty or so years his senior. He wasn't smiling, in fact he looked bored. Drew looked at the background and wondered if it were an ID for something. Those sorts of setups were easy to spot.

With the box already opened his filters began to leave him and Drew flipped the picture over, met with another, this time of a boy probably younger than him with blue hair and angry brown eyes. The rest of the pictures were similar, all male, until he found a picture of himself. Drew wasn't sure what to think at first. Why did Victor have a photo of him? Then he realized that this may be procedure. They were probably all patients of his. Drew flipped his photo and found that the last was the photo of a woman.

Except it wasn't the last photo. Drew tilted his head, seeing that hers was resting on white handkerchief, of which underneath there were obviously more photos.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!"

Drew jumped, turning toward the door with wide eyes. A woman was standing there, black hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She was dressed in a way that made Drew think that she probably worked there. He felt a bit like a child with his hand caught in a candy dish. He pulled his hand back, shutting the lid smoothly.

The woman glanced behind him. "Are you . . . one of Victor's patients?"

"Oh. Yes, I am." Drew stepped back from the table and faced her.

"I'm sorry; you must not have received the message. Victor's out today. We had some smoke up in the building and he had quite a cough. We had to send him home. A few of the surrounding offices are down today as well. I'm so sorry."

Drew didn't like the way she kept apologizing, but understood why she was probably doing it. He smiled a little awkwardly. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

She frowned, looking a little concerned. "Didn't the secretary tell you?"

Drew felt himself flush. "Uh, no. I…" he shook his head. How did he say that he hadn't checked in without sounding ridiculous? "I'm sorry," he ended quickly. "I'll just go."

She watched him leave. "It's fine, dear."

Drew stopped in the door at the pet name then shrugged it off and hurried on. _Dear._ Ugh. It made him sick.

* * *

Drew wandered a bit aimlessly after that. He headed home and thought over things. Specific things like his dream and the placement of May in it. Why had May been the person in his dream? That wasn't like May? Why would his subconscious put her there? And did it even make any sense for it to be from his subconscious considering he had no idea what it was referring to?

Drew sighed. For once he needed to talk to someone, and his outlet was out of office. Not that he wanted to talk to him about it… Drew frowned. Did he? It was hard not to want to when you had such a convenient way to get things out. It was getting to him and he was willing to bet it had happened to others. May was right, people needed to talk. And when someone was standing there willing and without judgment, it was hard to pass up after some time, loath as he was to admit it.

But considering he didn't have anyone to talk to, Drew began to try and put the pieces together himself. He knew, in a dream sort of way, who the woman speaking through May was. It was a strange phenomenon that in dreams you knew things that remained unspoken. The woman's voice was his mother. His overbearing mother.

His thoughts stopped there.

He had to talk to someone else. He couldn't do it to himself. He didn't even remember half of his childhood. He didn't know why, but he was very aware that it was blocked. At times that he began to remember he would come up short. Very quickly he would think of something else, sometimes he was aware of his own change of subject and sometimes he wasn't.

So why had his friends sent him to counseling if he couldn't remember anything?

Well, for precisely that reason.

Ash had been recounting his childhood and though it had started in jest the conversation quickly became quiet and awkward as Ash started to talk about his father and came up short. Everybody knew what had happened. Ash's father had left them when he was very young. Ash hardly remembered him but at times he would think of a particularly good memory and would speak without thinking only to recall that it would become awkward after ward. It was this lack of remembrance that made Drew think that somehow Ash didn't hate his father at all. Drew couldn't fathom it, but at times he did become quiet, if there was emotion it seemed more hurt than angry. There may have been anger but Drew couldn't see any.

It was in this awkward silence that Misty had jumped to his rescue, bringing up the awkwardness of her own family and missing her parents while trying to measure up to her beautiful sisters, validating Ash while not mentioning the same things to leave the awkwardness out. May had of course followed up with her own feelings on the subject of inadequacy, only stating that she understood where Misty was coming from. Everyone wanted to beautiful.

The conversation had started an uncomfortable feeling in the bottom of Drew's stomach. He wasn't sure what it was. Memories began to emerge, his mouth began to twitch and he started to shift as his subconscious tried to squash the memories. But they were still talking and the feeling wouldn't go away.

It was May who had noticed it. 'Drew, are you okay?' she had asked. Drew couldn't answer. He felt sick. Swallowing his nausea, now with everyone staring at him Drew had nodded quickly and stated. 'Yeah, fine.'

Misty had looked at him suspiciously and after a few moments of awkward silence she had ventured, "What was your childhood like?"

It was then that everyone had the same realization, no one knew what Drew's past had been like. He had always been so tight-lipped about it that everyone only really knew about his life after emancipation. But what had driven him to emancipation.

It was his uncomfortable shifting and wincing, so un-Drew like, that prompted the unstoppable questions. It was impossible to stop the curiosity of someone they all cared for, and knew nothing about.

Drew had allowed the feelings to fill him: the things he had never told anyone, the hate towards himself and his parents. He had never ever been able to tell anyone anything, and he had never been able to face the facts himself. He buried his memories, and they were pushing him to break those barriers and delve into things that he couldn't.

And so it built and built until on of many barriers snapped, and all spilled out.

Drew jumped to his feet to avoid intense stares and stepped away from them all, exclaiming, "Will you all just leave me alone?! Fine! So my mother locked me in a closet! So my father drank himself to sleep! So what?! Ash's father left him! Misty's parents have been dead for years! How is this any worse than your problems? Why do you just _have_ to know?!" And then taking a deep breath he had let out the rest of his emotions in one sentence. "Leave me the hell alone!"

It had been another twenty minutes before Drew had calmed himself enough to sit back down. Twenty minutes of silence. Drew didn't know who had suggested it first. He had been too overcome with emotion to know or care, but softly each of his friends had suggested that he talk to someone, just to get things off his chest.

He was sure the phrase "just to get things off your chest," had come from May. And it was a good thing too. Without that phrase his pride would have overcome him and he would not have gone. In his emotional state (silence was how he showed it) May had called the clinic and set up an appointment. It was only that night that he thought about what he had done and what he would have to do now. He had resolved not to go back. And he had stuck with it and not even spoken. But something had changed his mind.

He found it strange that he was changing his mind so much. He was still the same, he still had his pride, but with no one to see and such an understanding psychologist he didn't feel like he had to make walls. No one would see. No one would know if he let those walls down. He hadn't known just how badly he had needed to speak. Now he was ready, even wanted to talk. Not about those things, but about some things at least, minute as they were.

And Victor wasn't there.

Somehow that was annoying.


	7. Control

**A/N I know it's been a month. :P I haven't had any time to update these last few weeks. Good news is that my next (3 at least) updates will be quick ones. At least weekly. My goal is to finish this story within the month! :) Again, you can find news on updates on my twitter account. i have a link at the bottom of my profile.**

**Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

"Drew, stop that."

Drew had been tapping his fingers incessantly on his knee for the last half an hour and May had finally had enough.

Realizing what he had been doing Drew fisted his hand. His head fell back to stare at the ceiling.

Misty frowned. "What _are_ you doing?

Drew growled. "Staring at the ceiling. What does it look like?" Then deciding to be snarky he finished. "It's my favorite pastime, you should try it. It helps with those ditzy moments. Give your mind some exercise and it'll go a mile."

Misty frowned back. "Fine." Muttering in annoyance she reached down beside the chair to grab her notebook. Drew sighed as her attention left him then jumped when May placed her hand on his knee.

"It's okay, Drew," May stated. Drew titled his head just enough to see her face, but left it leaning back. "Really. You'll see."

"Yeah. Sure."

May pursed her lips. "It will."

Drew rolled his eyes. "Easy for you to say. Doesn't matter what happens to you, everything's always okay."

May wondered whether to take that as a compliment or criticism. She still hadn't decided when Ash entered the room. He looked at them all: Misty frowning, Drew twitching, and May pouting and blinked.

"What happened while I was out?"

May sighed. "Nothing important." Feeling the couch shaking beside her May glanced at Drew. His knee twitched on the couch beside them, tapping the covers. May's expression pulled. "It doesn't change much if it's your knee."

Drew pursed his lips and stiffened, his entire body stiffening with him. There was a moment of awkward silence before May was shocked with the sincere tone of Drew's next words. "I can't stop." The couch again began to shake, this time with more limbs' actions.

May turned slowly to him, perhaps the only one who recognized the reality of his tone. A concerned frown came over his face. "What do you mean?"

Drew's expression became pained. "I just…" he groaned. "I don't know!" Drawing his legs together Drew dropped his head to his hands and leaned over his legs. "I'm dizzy…" he muttered.

May stared at him. This did not sound like Drew. "Are you sick?"

Drew shook his head but did not offer an answer. When he didn't stop shaking his head May was unsure as to whether or not it had been in response to a question.

May looked to Ash and Misty who were now both watching warily. Turning back to him May again placed her hand on his shaking knee. "You don't know what's going on?"

Drew shook his head, wiping one hand across his forehead. "I'm…I feel strange."

May gulped. "How about lying down?"

It was a testament to just how out of it Drew was that he didn't even argue.

It wasn't long after Drew had settled down that May rejoined Misty and Ash.

"What was that about?" Misty asked.

May stared at the floor with a serious expression. "I don't know," she whispered.

Ash took in them both and sighed. "It was a little weird…." He reached for the coffee table and picked up a chip. The chip was half-way to his mouth before he announced. "Maybe he's just restless. There aren't many more solutions."

As much as May wanted to complain, Ash was right. What would cause Drew to act that way? Maybe on top of his new stress with the psychologist he was again not getting enough sleep?

May sighed and sat on the couch next to Misty, reaching with Ash for a chip. "I don't know what to do."

"What is there to do?" Ash asked, already finished and reaching for another. "Just let him sleep. You got him into bed already. That's a miracle in itself. Just let him sleep it off."

"I think Ash is right about this," Misty stated. Carefully she went on. "You know May… you don't have to take care of everything that happens to him. I understand why you want to, you're his friend. I'm just…a little worried that you might be wearing yourself out."

May looked at her in confusion.

"Mentally," Misty elaborated.

May pursed her lips. Misty was right. Drew didn't know it, but she did worry about him. A lot. All the time. Misty was perhaps the only person that understood this.

"It's okay though," May whispered. "In the end, it's all okay."

Misty understood a bit of what Drew had been referring to when he had told May that everything was okay to her. She was a very cheerful person. Whereas others would let their surroundings decide how they felt, May didn't. She chose to be happy. She was also very selfless, and though this was a great blessing to those around her it could be dangerous for her. Or maybe not dangerous, but tiring at least.

But May wouldn't see it that way. She wouldn't complain. She wouldn't blame them for any lost nights of sleep, or lack of what she had once owned. She would simply choose to be happy.

As great as that was, Misty understood, at least a little bit, what frustration had managed to slip through Drew's lips in his frazzled state.

Instead of arguing, Misty nodded and smiled. "You're right. Just take of yourself too. That's all I'm saying."

May recognized the concern and nodded. "Yeah."

Ash sighed from beside her. "So what now?"

May glanced up the stairs. Drew was asleep in Ash's bed (which he would have complained over had he been more awake), but with that left them with a little less options.

"We could watch a movie," Misty suggested.

"That would work," Ash agreed.

May's sigh brought both of their attention back to her. Realizing they were staring at her May gave a nervous laugh. "Um, whatever you guys want to do."

Misty glanced at Ash. At the same moment both of their eyes met and they shared a silent concern. Ash was the one to voice it. "There must be something _you_ want to do."

May blinked in confusion over their obvious concern.

Misty changed tactics. "Drew will be fine after a little bit of sleep. Don't worry about him."

May bit her lip and sighed again, giving in. "Okay," she started slowly. Then she smiled. "So what should we do?"

* * *

When Drew woke the first thing he registered was the blankets wrapped around his legs, tucked on either side. It was a bit constricting.

Drew sat up with a wince, a pang lanced through his forehead and he grabbed at it, calmly waiting for the pain to fade before he dropped the hand back to the bed at his side.

The room was utterly silent, turning to his right he found the only source of light in the room, an alarm clock reflecting red numbers around the room. Drew stared at it blankly until it occurred to him where he must be. Looking away from the clock he found a couple of sport posters rolled up by a dresser in the corner of the room and some loose balls on the floor and the desk on the wall opposite him.

He was in Ash's room.

Drew frowned. It was a weird feeling. He was also in Ash's bed then. Sighing he went to pull his feet to the floor and found them still tucked. Why were his feet tucked?

A memory suddenly came to him, nine year old May breaking into his house and demanding he get some sleep. She had done the same thing. Wrapping the blankets around his lower legs and feet and making him want to smack her, while filling with a feeling he had as of yet had no words for.

May…

The day's events began to return to him. Being more conscious of his legs, Drew wiggled his toes and found them unrestricted. Turning to the side of the bed he found his shoes on the floor. His vest was still on him but fully unbuttoned. Subconsciously Drew raised a hand to his neck and pulled at the high black material.

He wasn't sure how he felt about this. Embarrassed certainly…but there was something else. The same feeling he had had when he was a child. The feeling he had had no words for at the time but could almost fathom now.

But no… he couldn't think about that. Not now.

Drew pulled the covers out from around his legs and reached down for his shoes.

Would it ever be time?

* * *

May was the first to turn and smile at him as he reentered the room, attuned and waiting for his return even as she pretended to be fully involved in the game the three of them were playing.

Drew stilled, feeling himself swallowing but sure she hadn't noticed it. He made sure not to shuffle the way he wanted to. May spoke before he could worry too much more about it.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

Drew thought about it, compared the feeling he had had to the one he felt now and nodded. He didn't have words for what had happened before, but that was okay.

"Alright then," Ash stood and smiled. "Let's go out."

They all agreed readily.

Instead of having something planned the four of them decided just to go out and wing whatever they did. Drew found himself again distracted. A headache started again that he forcibly ignored, but made it difficult to be as vocal as he usually would have been.

Misty had just dragged them into a small shop when May turned to Drew. "You alright?"

Drew sighed. "I'm fine, May."

Frowning, May nodded and moved to look through a clothing rack behind Misty.

Drew watched them silently as Ash stood beside him. Ash looked around the shop slowly and, seeming to find nothing that interested him, stated, "Drew and I are going next door."

Drew looked to Ash in confusion at being pulled away without consent, but Ash didn't seem to think anything of it as he turned and left the shop. Drew sighed again and followed him.

When they entered the shop Drew raised an eyebrow. A video store? He turned to Ash to find him staring back.

"What?" he muttered. Uncomfortable.

"What's going on?" Ash asked bluntly.

Drew blinked. "What do you mean?"

"With you, earlier. What happened?"

Drew only stared, completely confused. When he realized what Ash was referring to the shaking and restlessness that morning, he frowned. Even he didn't know what had happened. Couldn't they forget about it?

Well, he wouldn't, but he didn't want his friends wondering if he was some kind of freak.

Drew shifted and looked away. "I was tired."

Ash watched him carefully. For a moment the only sounds around them were the shifting of DVD's and some children in the corner of the store.

"I'm not stupid." Ash stated.

Drew didn't know what to do with those words. Despite himself he turned to Ash. He wanted to say, "So?" But something stopped him.

"I know people…" Ash sighed and put his hands in his pocket, glancing away. "I'm not stupid." He repeated finally. "I know something's up with you. I pretended not to for May's sake but I _am_ worried." Glancing at Drew and finding the frown pulling on the corner of his mouth he continued. "If not for you, then for May."

Drew flipped his hair carelessly to the side, less of an eccentric act then a common habit. In the same motion he looked to the floor. "Why should you worry about May or me? It's none of your business."

Ash frowned. "I know you don't quite get it yet but that's what it means to have friends. We support each other, we love each other, and we _worry_ about each other."

The words caused Drew to shift more. There was a reason he had never opened up to people. He didn't want them to _worry_ about them. He didn't want them to care and ask questions about his past. It was so much easier to be popular and let the crowd think what they wanted. With May it was different. He had to be real, and her close friends became his for no other reason then May did that: brought people together.

Ash was right, he wasn't used to it. He did get it; he just wasn't comfortable with it.

Vaguely Drew looked to the wall opposite them. "Why May?" he found himself asking.

"…She cares about you….A lot. I mean…we all do…"

Drew looked back to Ash suspiciously, hearing the care in his words as he tried to phrase them. "Just tell me."

Ash sighed. He raised a hand to his head and pulled at his cap. "Look, I'm not trying to judge you. Drew. And I do trust you. But…"

"But…" Drew pushed, feeling more agitated as Ash continued.

"I just have to say… I've seen my fair share of drug abuse. I mean…" looking away uncomfortably he stated, "I was too young to remember it clearly, but I do remember it." He glanced back at Drew and gathering his bearing stated. "And that… those impulses of yours?"

Drew knew he was going to regret asking Ash.

"Those seemed a lot like a withdrawal."

The sounds around them seemed to fade to a dull hum. Drew stared at Ash through a foggy haze. Barely able to believe that Ash would accuse him of something so insane. It was the disbelief that left him feeling frozen, not trusted, (and dare he admit it to himself) unloved. To believe something like that of him?

As the sounds began to return and Drew found himself once again in the real world his teeth clenched without thought. "Yeah," he started through the same clenched teeth. "A withdrawal. That's exactly what it was."

The spark of alarm started in Ash's eyes. He started quickly. "I'm not saying you're on anything, and if you were I wouldn't judge it. I've been around it before. It doesn't' change my view of you. I just think if you are doing it that you should get some help before you hurt yourself…or …anyone else."

"Or May," Drew finished.

Ash's mouth parted, then shut.

Drew didn't have to ask anything else.

Drew felt his frustrations rising. He thought of all of the counseling, of yelling to them about his family when he hadn't even _wanted_ to talk to them. And then when he had the smallest of strange things happen to him and opened up about it Ash accused him of using drugs. First a counselor and now this.

Is this what having friends was supposed to be about? Would everything he opened up to them about end in something this dramatic?

Was he some big freak show to them? That everything he did was _this_ big of a deal?

Without a question Drew turned on his heal and started out of the store.

Ash watched him go with wide eyes then went to follow him. "Wait!" The door shut in front of him before he could reach it. When Ash opened the door Drew was already several paces ahead of him in the wrong direction. The air outside of these little shops was quiet and calm. The dirt path caused small scuffing sounds with Drew's shoes. "Drew!"

Drew stiffened, shoulders tight and fists at his side.

Did he even want Ash as a friend?

All at once he felt his frustration fill and burst. Still from several feet away Drew turned and began to speak, ignoring the shock evident in Ash's eyes. "I never asked you to be my friend! The only reason I ever did anything with you was _because_ of May. You're not my friend, May is. And you're just proving that with everything you said. May doesn't think like this about me. She wouldn't assume that because I twitched on her couch I was using drugs. She wouldn't suggest I go to a counselor because I have bad memories. She wouldn't do this!" Eyes shut. "This all comes back to you, you and Misty, and I'm sick of it. If you _were_ real friends, like you call yourself…"

Opening his eyes he found Ash wide-eyed. "…You wouldn't accuse me of something before you _asked_ me why."

Drew left Ash, standing shocked in the street and went home.

* * *

"What happened?"

Ash blinked dazedly as Misty stared at him, leaning over to try and view his confused face. "He yelled at me," Ash muttered.

Misty's eyes widened. "Why?"

Ash swallowed. "I was worried…"

May looked between the two of them with concerned eyes, glancing to the door then back to them. When Ash didn't say anything else May asked. "What happened?"

Ash stiffened. "I just…"

"Which way did he go?"

Ash turned to her and glanced to the window. Slowly he pointed. May was gone before Ash or Misty could argue.

* * *

"Stupid," Drew groaned to himself. He wasn't sure what he was finding stupid, or which part of the conversation. It felt good to get the words out while at the same time something in his stomach was making him feel nauseous. The question came back: Did he want Ash as a friend?

As a real friend?

As his only guy friend?

Drew's feet slowed on the pavement. His mind felt blocked, a familiar enough feeling. He didn't know what to think. Clenching his teeth, his head ducked.

"Drew!"

Drew's head shot up. He turned in surprise to see May run up before him and lean over her knees, gasping for breath. Drew blinked and watched her breath and straiten. "What are you doing?"

May wrapped an arm around her side. "You walk fast," she stated.

Drew rolled his eyes and turned to walk on. May frowned and followed. "Where are you going?"

Drew didn't want to say that he didn't know so he stayed quiet.

"Dreeeewww."

Drew sighed as May came to his side and leaned over him to get his attention. Slowing he looked to her and raised an eyebrow. "What?"

May smiled lightly, satisfied in getting his attention. "Sit down with me?"

Drew looked around and saw the nearest bench. Realizing there was no point in arguing he shrugged and started towards it.

When they were both seated May glanced at him nervously. Giving him just a moment to get his bearing she questioned. "Ash said you yelled at him."

Drew stiffened and looked away, lightly shrugging.

May's eyes softened. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Drew muttered.

"Tell me?"

"Nothing happened."

"…Something must've happened….Maybe he hurt your feelings?"

Drew rolled his eyes. He recognized her tactic of trying to suggest something that wouldn't hurt his pride so he could open up. "It's not really….It wasn't anything big…." Taking the age old excuse (which was however true) he muttered. "I'm just tired. I overreacted."

May watched him for several long, silent moments. "I think…it hurt _his_ feelings."

Drew bit at the inside of his mouth. "Guys aren't like that, May."

"Guys _are_ like that…. They just pretend not to be."

Drew carefully hid the strange feeling that started. He didn't _need_ friends. He was fine by himself.

Sighing, Drew dropped his head over the back of the bench. "I told him he wasn't a real friend," he whispered. "But that…wasn't exactly right. He's my only friend…really."

May watched him with sad eyes. "So why don't you apologize?"

Drew's expression pulled. "Why doesn't he apologize?"

May sighed. "That's not how it works."

"Why not?" Drew asked childishly. He struggled to keep the whine out of his voice.

May rolled her eyes. "Because guys aren't like that."

Drew carefully hid his smile as she quoted him. "I suppose that _is_ true," he started.

Before Drew could pull some sarcastic response out of his back pocket May hurried on. "All I know is that if you want to keep a friend you have to be a friend….And sometimes that means apologizing."

Drew shifted, seriousness returning to his mind. He didn't want to admit how far his heart had sunk into his stomach as he had turned away from Ash, as that one action had made it possible for him to loose not only Ash but Misty and May as friends as well.

He did need friends.

He did want friends.

Drew sighed.

"Fine," he muttered.

May smiled and stood.

"Because I want to," Drew elaborated, aware of the kind of response he would receive.

"Oh, of course," May started with the depiction of seriousness though the laugh in her tone was barely disguised. "I don't even know what you're talking about. I just saw you as you were walking back." With a smile she twirled on her heel and started ahead.

Drew watched her go with a shake of his head.


	8. Impossible

**A/N Those of you who know me as an author know that I go over each chapter as much as I can but don't really have time to thoroughly check everything. That is the case today. I apologize for it. I wanted to edit more but my mind is done with this chapter. :P**

**Aside from that, I hope you enjoy the chapter. I intend to bring more plot in soon, but for now I wanted to give you all a better understanding of the characters relations.**

**Hope you like it! If you have the time, please let me know in a review. I would love it. Thanks!**

**P.S. As next month is the Christmas month (for many of us), and as I had so much fun with my last Christmas story (Wishful Thinking), my goal is going to be to finish this story in November. I think I would like to write another Christmas story. I'm not sure quite yet which characters I will use. Mosty likely Ash and Misty as I have already focused one around Drew and May. So anyway, keep an eye out for that.**

* * *

It is a strange thing to view the past through the eyes of a child. Each color is more vibrant. Each action of an adult is viewed by looking up with the most watchful of gazes, for a child is always aware of the actions of the adults around them. They are aware, as they should be, that the person standing above them is taller, stronger, and wiser. They do not question the words spoken or the tone taken, and they know that the person has control over them. Whether they fight or yell or scream, that person has the power to hold them down. They are stronger. It is fact.

A spoiled child, while still knowing this, knows that the person they view will not hurt them, and so they are not afraid. They will complain and cry and kick and scream, regardless of where the real strength lies. Their view of strength squandered, for they know they have it, never mind the comparison of their small arms to the ones above them.

The strength is not in the person, it is in who it is given to.

An abused child knows that the person they view is stronger, and that is the end of that. They are stronger and so they have the control.

Both of these children grow on either ends of a spectrum, with different beliefs on strength. One thinking it is all in muscle, the other thinking it is always theirs.

Both will experience heart-ache as they discover the truth, that they can never know when they are stronger. That they can never know if they will be given strength or if they will have to take it.

And above all, that this so called "strength" will mean nothing in the end.

Drew was the one abused.

* * *

"So Drew, did you know that the water molecules in your body literally dance with different kind of music? When you play classical music, the water makes these pretty designs, and when you play heavy metal music it shakes around and just kind of has this crazy reaction. Weird right? I mean is it any wonder that we want to dance when we hear music when 70% of our body is already doing it?"

Drew had been so caught up in his own thoughts that he had hardly heard anything of what had been spoken. This was so like May. She didn't like science (though she did try and received alright grades in the subject), but when she found something she liked she remembered it. Drew was sure that May could have been amazing in any subject if she actually wanted to be. As it was she applied herself, and her grades were just where they should be, but not amazing.

"Drew?"

Drew looked at her. May raised an eyebrow. "What were you thinking about?"

Drew stared at her silently. It was a Thursday. He had a meeting with Victor the next day, and again, it was all he could think about. The thought bothered him deeply. He should be able to forget about his sessions. He shouldn't be thinking about them whenever he wasn't there. Things shouldn't always come back to it.

But his thoughts always did.

When would it stop?

Drew sighed. A moment of thinking later he announced. "Why don't we do something?"

"Like what?"

He shrugged. "We could get Ash and Misty. Let's … go see a game."

May blinked. "Um like an Ash-"

"I'm not watching football."

May giggled. "Okay, so baseball then?"

Drew paused. "…Do you think they'd _want_ to see that?"

May looked to the ceiling and thought. "I think Misty will come just to support you and she'll drag Ash with her. He'll be a little bored but then he'll get really into it, like he gets into everything." She smiled and looked to him again.

Drew looked back with an amused expression. "And Misty?"

May paused. "Don't worry about Misty."

Drew rolled his eyes.

* * *

"Baseball?"

May smiled brightly and nodded. "It will be fun!"

Ash raised an eyebrow and looked behind her to Drew. "_You_ think it will be fun?" he asked her. "You don't like sports…."

May pouted. "I like some!"

"No you don't."

Drew sighed. "Just forget it, May."

Ash frowned. "I wasn't saying no. Just give me a second. Let me get Misty."

Ash disappeared into the house. After May had gotten over her surprise she turned to Drew and smiled. "See?"

Drew shook his head, smiling despite himself. "Yep."

The response prompted more smiling from May. She knew it meant a lot more to him then he was going to say. She turned just as the door reopened and Ash stepped out, pulling a cap onto his head as he did so. Misty stepped out behind him, pulling a light jacket around her and pushing something (money May assumed) into her pocket. "Baseball?"

Drew frowned. "Yes, baseball."

May sighed. "It'll be fun."

Ash turned to Misty with a smile. "This is the same talk they just gave me."

Misty looked between them and sighed. "Okay. I'm ready."

"Great!" May turned on her heal and started ahead of them. Ash followed while Misty shook her head and did the same. May glanced over her shoulder. "Are you coming Drew, or should we go ahead without you?"

Realizing he had been only staring, Drew swallowed his smile and ran to catch up.

May had been almost right. It turned out Ash was into more sports than she was aware. He already knew the teams and loudly supported one of them as he got more and more into the game. At one point Ash even stood up and yelled at one of the pitchers, to which Misty promptly grabbed his jacket and pulled him back onto the chair beside her. "Really," she muttered.

May was relieved to feel like it was going so well. It was a relaxing type of sport (at least in her mind) and even she was able to sit and enjoy it and follow it easily, even if it wasn't her idea of the funnest thing to do. Beside her Drew watched carefully. She was aware that he was fully into the game, but was watching intensely in that way of his, catching mistakes and pointing out flaws that affected other team mates. She was surprised that he didn't point them out as he was usually very vocal about his skepticism. Her concern quickly gave way when Misty pulled Ash down and Drew smirked, eyes still trained on the game. "Trained already?"

Ash glared at him, but everyone knew Ash and instead of being nervous May felt like laughing.

All in all it was enjoyable. Ash was rooting for a team Drew supposed he liked (he hardly took sides, he more liked to watch and compare them). And Misty and May sat in the middle and whispered to each other to take care of any boredom that did come up, in its rarity.

By the end of the game, Ash was smiling in contentment and Drew was doing the same as he watched his friends. As they left the bleachers and were passing through the exit path, Ash turned to him to point out something and Drew tuned out.

A girl stood mere feet from him, black hair pulled back into a ponytail as she smiled and leaned into a man beside her. As Drew watched, the man (which Drew assumed to be her boyfriend) absentmindedly ran his fingers over the side of her waist. She winced and politely pulled away with a pained smile. He glanced at her and smiled softly. An obvious silent conversation passed between them before he looked back to the man he had been talking to. In that same moment she turned, feeling watched, and matched eyes with Drew.

For a moment he wasn't sure who she was, though he knew those eyes were familiar. And then he knew. She was the girl from his last session, who he had met on the way in. She looked so different dressed up with the man beside her, so unlike the nervous girl he had seen clinging to her purse.

Seeming to realize who he was as well, she gave him a small wave hello. Drew raised his hand to wave in response automatically. Drew's friends looked at him and to where he was staring. He hadn't realized he had ignored Ash's questions.

"Who's that?" May asked politely.

"She's…" he frowned, realizing he had never received her name. "I don't know actually."

Ash looked around Drew's shoulder to the girl. "She seems to know you."

"I met her at my last session. She's a patient there."

"Oh," May nodded in recognition. "Is she seeing your psychologist too?"

Drew, not comfortable with the term "your psychologist," frowned but shook his head. "I guess she was at one point, but he wasn't right for her."

"Oh…well, let's go meet her."

Drew blinked. "She's just someone I met. It's not like we're friends or anything."

May shrugged. "Why not?"

Drew didn't have an answer for this. May took it as acquiescence, and moments later they were all traveling over the dirt path to meet her.

The girl blinked and stared back at them all, looking a little wary. The man beside her was laughing at something another man had said to him from a few feet away.

May nudged Drew and he smiled lightly. "Um, sorry. We met earlier this week."

She nodded and smiled lightly. "I remember. You're with Doctor Vanrae."

Drew nodded. "Um, yeah." When May nudged him again Drew rolled his eyes. "Sorry, I just wanted to introduce myself." Drew held out his hand. "I'm Drew."

She took it and smiled. "I'm Natalia."

Drew smiled. It was going better. He motioned to May first. "This is May, Ash, and Misty."

Natalia nodded softly. "Nice to meet you all." She elbowed the man beside her and he turned from the man he had been talking to. He looked to her and she motioned to the group before them. "This is Drew. I met him at the clinic." Looking back to the man she stepped closer to him and introduced. "This is Aiden, my boyfriend."

He smiled politely and nodded. "Nice to meet you."

Drew nodded back. The shortest of awkward silences began before Misty coughed. "Well, we should be going," she stated. "It was very nice to meet you."

"You as well," she nodded back softly.

Drew smiled at her once more before they turned. Natalia watched them go for a moment longer before going back to her discussion.

"She was nice," May announced on their way back.

Drew shrugged.

Ash turned over his shoulder as they walked away silently.

* * *

A pile of empty popsicle sticks laid on a plate on the table. Drew and Misty had been lightly bantering about a movie when May placed her last popsicle stick on the plate and stood.

"Soooo a movie?" May asked, pulling a box from beside the TV.

Ash was the only one who didn't respond to the prompt and sit around the box. Instead he focused on his popsicle and stared at the group.

"What about this one?"

"No, May."

May glared. "What do you mean, 'no?'"

Drew sighed. "I'm not watching that third rate version of pop culture."

May blinked.

Glancing at her Drew smirked.

"I know what that means!" She announced when he opened his mouth. Quickly she turned back to the box.

"This one," Misty pointed to a movie.

May winced. "That looks…scary."

Drew chuckled. May pushed him over a bit which just prompted more laughter.

Misty looked between the two of them as May paused and watched him laugh. It _was_ rare to get a true laugh from Drew, and even Misty had to admit that the full smile was a sight to see.

She smirked and opened her mouth to comment but was cut off as Ash held the blue popsicle to the side and leaned over the coffee table between her and the box of movies the three were going through without him.

"I like that one," he commented on the movie Misty had chosen.

Drew straitened himself and raised an eyebrow (pushing May back carefully so nobody else noticed and swallowing the smirk that rose when she opened her mouth). "You don't like horror."

"I don't mind it."

Drew blinked. "Past experience says you do."

Ash frowned. "I know what I like…"

"You like scary movies?" Drew stated calmly in disbelief.

Ash shrugged. "It's not that scary. This is a good one."

Drew looked between Ash and Misty (finally May turned and began to pay attention as well). "Don't you remember what happened last time we turned on a horror movie? The two of you spent the whole time-" Drew came up short, his eyes widening. "…under the . . .covers," he finished.

The room was silent for a moment, broken a few seconds later by May's surprised squeak as she put the pieces together.

Misty blushed immediately. Ash, a bit slower on the uptake, seemed to come to an understanding the same time that May did. As May squeaked Ash's eyes widened. "Hold on! That is _not_ what happened!"

Misty rolled her eyes, still blushing. "It's nothing like that at all!"

May's hands remained over her mouth to hide her shock but began to stifle giggles as the blush spread to Ash.

Drew smirked. "Really?"

"Yes!" Both cried at the same time.

Drew crossed his arms over his chest. "And how do we know _that_?"

Misty's mouth fell open at his question. She became flustered, looking for an answer.

Ash had just the answer. "We don't _have_ to prove it to you!" Ash cried indignantly.

When Drew's smirk only grew more confident, the best comeback for the current situation, Ash flushed deeper. "Fine!" He announced bring the popsicle back to him. "Don't believe us. See if I…" He trailed off, staring at the empty popsicle stick and glanced to where he had been holding it.

"_What_ is that?" Misty muttered.

Misty turned over her shoulder the same time that Ash did to see blue staining the back of her shirt and on the carpet beside her. She turned to Ash with a glare. "You couldn't put that on the table instead of holding it over your mother's white carpet? … And my white shirt?"

Ash pulled back nervously. "Heh…sorry."

Misty watched him with carefully calculating eyes as Ash backed away to the couch. Her gaze reminded Ash of some kind of animal as she didn't move. "I liked this shirt," she muttered. May looked away from Misty and to the shirt. Though it was merely a comfy medium sleeved shirt (slightly too big for her), the Eifel tower was on the front. 'Paris' ran in cursive letters above it.

"I said I was sorry."

Drew placed his hands behind his head and leaned back against the coffee table for the battle that was sure to ensue.

May looked between the two of them nervously. No matter how many times they argued she could never seem to put aside the idea that one of them might someday say something really hurtful and start a _real_ fight.

Misty groaned and stood, pulling the bottom of her sweater around her waist to view the blue. "Why can't you ever just put things where they belong?"

Ash frowned. "I put things where they belong."

Letting the fabric fall in hopelessness, she faced him. "No, you don't. You never, ever put things away. And you leave food everywhere!"

Ash's mouth fell open. "Well I know I don't do _that_."

Misty crossed her arms over her chest. "I could give you examples."

Ash's eyes narrowed. "So give me some."

When Misty pursed her lips and didn't answer he announced. "See?! I'm not nearly as messy as you make me out to be on a regular basis."

"I make you out to be exactly as messy as you are."

"No you don't! You exaggerate everything! If I drop a popsicle on the floor I never clean up behind myself. If I leave my hat on the floor, then I _must_ leave my clothes everywhere! Everything is worse than it is-where I'm concerned." Leaning fully back into the couch Ash glared back to match what he was receiving.

Misty pursed her lips and with a breath of annoyance left the room. Silence filled the room, broken a moment later by the sound of running water where Misty had disappeared.

May looked nervously to Ash. Now that Misty was gone he was glaring at the ground. "You should talk to her," May whispered.

Ash raised an eyebrow and turned back to her. In a kinder tone he asked, "Do you _know_ Misty?"

"He's kind of right on that mark," Drew commented. "He should probably give her time to cool off."

May looked to Drew and frowned. "But she's upset. It'll help."

"She overreacted."

May's mouth opened. "What do you mean she overreacted?"

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Isn't it obvious?"

May stared back. After a moment she stated. "She didn't seem like she was overreacting _that_ much."

"I didn't say she overreacted a lot, but she did overreact. It wasn't like he was planning on dropping it." He winced and glanced at Ash. "But I am going to have to side on this one with Misty as far as the messyness goes. Why didn't you leave it on the table?"

Ash frowned. "I forgot about it because you distracted me by accusing us of…of…" Ash pulled his hat down a bit. "Of _that_."

Drew rolled his eyes. "Yes, _that_. Untouchable subject that it is."

May couldn't help the half smile that pulled at her lips. The concern still came back. "But she did like that shirt. And it's discouraging when…when stuff like that happens." While she had wanted to end the sentence with something along the lines of '…it's discouraging when the person you like isn't paying attention,' she wasn't sure how that would go over.

Ash sighed a deep sigh and leaned back. "She's impossible."

"They're all impossible," Drew announced, fingers sifting through the dvd's again. "It's just something you have to deal with if you want to be with someone."

May paused, unsure if she should feel offended for the female sex or awed.

"Am I impossible?" She asked.

Drew's fingers paused on the edge of a disc. A tense silence passed through the room. Drew didn't turn his head, remaining still. May was prepared for his him to correct himself. Continuing on his fingers exploration he replied, "Yes."

May's mouth dropped open just as Ash let out a surprised laugh.

Tightening her expression she asked. "How am I impossible?"

Drew sighed. "It's just a women thing, May."

Becoming frustrated May stood. "And you don't think men are impossible? What about Ash leaving his food and clothes all over the place? That's a very man-like thing to do!"

May ignored Ash's indignant 'Hey!' and waited for a reply.

Drew smirked and looked up at her, fingers still on the disks. "I'll give you that. It _is_ a very 'man-like' thing to do." Looking to the ceiling, caught in mock thought he asked. "When have you known me to do anything like that?"

May paused, stumped.

"See the difference, is that while that is _common_ in men, not all men have it. They're not all impossible." Looking back to the discs he went on. "Things are ingrained into women. There's always something impossible."

May's mouth remained open. "That logic is completely ridiculous."

"To you maybe. But I happen to know that in mere moments you are going to either shriek or leave the room, and that's something ingrained into you, as a women, just like Misty left."

Ash blinked, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how he liked that comparison.

May's hands clenched. She felt caught, like she didn't know what move to make next because he had laid out all of them before her.

Drew glanced up at her. Realizing the state she was in was a bit heavier than he had anticipated he explained, "I'm not judging you for it. I'm just saying that women are like that and Ash has to deal with it."

May felt her body stiffen. This was not playful banter. "I'm not even going to try to respond to that," she whispered.

Drew watched May leave and realized that for once he had seriously done something wrong.

In the silence of the room Ash sighed.

Several minutes later Ash stood. "Well…I'm going to try to talk to her." He was halfway out of the room before he turned. Drew was sitting still, staring at the box. "And you should talk to May."

Drew glanced at him and nodded and then Ash was gone.

A couple minutes later Drew sighed and raised himself from the floor. At first he thought that May might be with Misty, but not really wanting to have to face them both, he instead headed into the hallway. It occurred to him then that if she was thinking she would be outside, or in her bed, but as they weren't in her house outside was probably the key.

Drew found himself right when he opened the front door and found May sitting outside the entry way. Sighing he made his way out and sat down next to her.

Neither said anything. Drew stared strait up to the clouds and watched them float by until May glanced at him. Feeling her gaze he turned to her and their eyes met.

"So…what was it?" Drew asked.

May pursed her lips and turned back to the clouds.

"Really…" Drew started. "Just say it."

May let out a little breath and sighed. Pulling her knees to her chest she wrapped her arms around them. "I'm sorry. Maybe _I_ . . . overreacted…."

Drew frowned. May was shocked when Drew stated loudly. "For crying out loud, yell at me."

May's eyes widened.

"Why are you always like this?"

May could only stare in shock. "Like what?"

"_This!"_ Drew raised his hands in her general direction and let them fall back to his sides. "You always do this. In the end you cave, you let me have whatever I want. You apologize even when you did nothing wrong. You're worth so much more than this and you'll just keep exhausting yourself because you put yourself last every, single, time."

When May continued to stare with wide eyes, Drew clenched his teeth and went on. "Where's that fiery girl that hit me? The girl that pushed me down in my bed and . . .and opened my closet when I told her not to? That same girl that kept coming to my house even when I warned her time and time again that she could get hurt? The girl that cried and _yelled_ at me for skipping school?" Drew's tone softened, as if bringing all of the memories together was touching him as well. "Where's that girl?"

May swallowed. Many of those memories were a foggy dream, but she knew each one. And he made her think, when had she given that girl up? She didn't yell anymore, he was right about that. She had always cared about people. As she had matured she had realized that those stupid things that made her want to scream back at him just didn't matter. She still at times wanted to, but then she would take a deep breath and reply in a way that would actually get them somewhere.

Why did Drew want the other girl back? Wasn't it better to be . . . mature?

"Why?"

"Why…what?" Drew asked.

"Why do you want the old me?" May whispered.

It was at that very moment that a particularly cold wind passed by. While May experienced the slightest of shivers neither one of them particularly noticed the cold. The question rang between them, strong and true and important for reasons neither of them could fathom.

Drew swallowed and dropped his gaze to the concrete beside them. "It's not like I want the old you. I like…you-the way you are now." He looked up at her to finish the sentence quickly, then looked back down to the concrete.

May sighed. "I don't understand you, Drew." She turned back to the clouds.

Drew smiled softly at the ground.

"Why would you want me not to be . . . nice?"

Drew turned to her, watching the light that would shine and then hide behind clouds reflect off her face. "It's not about being nice. It's about balancing it. Sometimes nice is . . . dangerous."

"Dangerous?" May looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "How could nice be dangerous?"

Drew stared back silently, then smiled softly. "_That_ is what makes you impossible."

Silence passed between them. May frowned, trying to figure out how to take those words.

"Don't worry about it," he continued in the same tone. May looked to him warily as he ended the comment. "If I had to choose an impossible for you, that would be it."

* * *

"Heeey, Mist."

Misty stubbornly ignored him, scrubbing more furiously at the blue in her shirt.

Ash sighed and rested against the door frame. watching her continue in the bathroom sink. She was only wearing a yellow tank top, having removed the shirt to scrub it clean. After a moment of silence between them he asked, "Is it coming out?"

Misty sighed, dropping the fabric to lean over the sink. "It's blue dye. Of course it's not coming out."

There was a short pause, and then Ash turned and left the room. Misty sighed again and began to scrub at the fabric once more.

She jumped when Ash walked past her to the bathroom vanity, so absorbed into her work that she hadn't realized he had returned. As he passed her he set a small dish with a white powder, and a half-gallon on the counter. Misty watched him warily pull a sponge from the vanity and walk back to her, placing it on the counter. Reaching around her he clogged the sink and turned the water on, then pulled the other items to himself.

Misty moved back to give him more room as he began to pour the liquid into the water.

"Vinegar?" She asked.

"Yep." Ash grabbed the next item, a small container with a white powder and dumped that into the now half-full sink as well.

Misty raised an eyebrow. "Laundry detergent," he explained.

Misty nodded as Ash placed a sponge by the tap and pulled her shirt from beside them. He glanced at her just once and finding no complaints placed the fabric in the water and soaked it completely.

Stepping back he placed his wet hands on his pockets.

Misty looked from the water to him with a question.

"Mom taught me," he explained quietly.

Misty glanced back to it. "Will it work?"

Ash shrugged. "Should. We just have to let it soak for a while."

Misty nodded. Suddenly she wasn't quite sure what to say. She couldn't very well be mad at him after that.

The awkward silence was broken by a soft sigh. "I'm sorry about your shirt."

Misty winced. "It's just a shirt," she muttered. "I know that. I just…don't want to loose it." Glancing back at him she bit her lip. "Thank you."

Ash shrugged, feeling a little awkward but happy at the same time.

Misty wondered what she should be feeling right now. She knew how she had once felt towards him, as a child, but now? Did she want to spend the rest of her life with someone who, despite his defense, was messy? It wasn't just that either… but did it really matter? Did she want him, all of him?

Would it matter if she did?

To get her mind off the thoughts Misty turned back to the sink. In an attempt to lighten the mood she smiled and stated calmly, "I suppose I can put up with you if you can clean up the mess afterwards."

Ash shook his head with a smile. "While I'm at it I'll clean up after you."

"Makes sense if it's dirty because of you."

Ash and Misty glanced at each other and then Misty giggled, though stifled it made it through.

At the same moment they both thought nearly the same thing, though the other would never really know.

Drew might've been right. The other was impossible.

But it was worth it.

* * *

The TV blared before them with the sound of an angry chainsaw. From beneath the covers three forms shook.

Drew rolled his eyes. Raising his hand he stated loudly, "Let it be known that I predicted this."

"Shut up, Drew," Misty groaned.

* * *

Drew did all he could to distract himself and keep in the present mindset before his session. He didn't want to focus on only that, and so he kept himself busy.

The next day followed with more pointless chatter. But soon enough, it was time for his session again.

And Drew wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"How was your week?"

Drew shrugged. "Uneventful."

Victor nodded. "They usually are," he agreed readily.

There was a moment of silence in which Victor quietly drank his coffee. Then he ventured. "Anything you wanted to talk about today?"

Drew watched Victor drink and bit the inside of his lip. Victor paused when Drew didn't respond. Finally he shook his head. "I'm okay."

Victor nodded. "Alright then. Watched any games lately?"

And so their session began. It was a slow session. One in which Drew wasn't forced to speak and they mainly spoke with no direction. Drew didn't feel the same about it as he had once before but it turned into an acceptable relief. Just something to talk about and someone to talk to and no other pressure. Drew was relieved for that.

Drew brought up the game and mentioned who he had gone with. He was going to continue to mentioning the girl, Victor had used to be psychologist to when Victor interrupted and asked, "Planning to ask her out?"

Drew blinked. "Who?"

"May."

Drew blinked again. "What? No."

Victor paused, looking surprised. "Why not?

"…We're friends. It would be..." He paused, trying to find a way to finish the sentence that didn't sound like a teenage classic and failing when he muttered, "…weird."

Victor looked at him quizzically. "I just assumed with how much you bring her up that there was _something_ there."

Drew blinked. He brought her up a lot? Really? Mentally he skimmed over their conversations.

There was something there. Something big. Something Drew had been afraid to admit to himself because nothing would ever come of it. Drew wasn't bashful in that regard. He would have flattered her, would have asked her out, would have given her gifts, if he had thought anything would come of it. They had been friends since they were nine, and much of their friendship was grown around the fact of his mother's sickness. And now he was going to see a psychologist. Being friends was fine and good, but what were the chances May would want to go out with him, now at least? Did he want to ask her out when he felt this ridiculous? When he was seeing a psychologist?

No he would wait. Wait to a time when he had more to call his own, or maybe he would just wait till these sessions were over and he felt that now he could face her confidently with something to give back. But for the time being…

"We're friends. That's it."

"Hmm." Victor looked thoughtfully into the distance.

To get the focus off of him and end the awkward silence Drew asked, "And you? Do you have a girlfriend? …Or a wife maybe?"

Victor's expression hardened at the question, but it quickly lightened. "No." An expression came over Victor's face showing his lack of excitement at the prospect, though still good humored. He smiled, eyes closed. "I'm not the tied down type."

Drew watched Victor. The words prompted a silence that Drew didn't know how to respond to.

Victor continued to sip his coffee. After a few minutes his eyes widened. "Oh! Sorry…" He set his cup on the table between them and motioned to the table he had walked from, standing up in the same motion. "I was already drinking that when you came in. Feeling up to having some?"

All at once the aroma hit Drew. He hadn't realized how much he _had_ wanted some. Wincing Drew smiled. "Please."

Victor nodded. Drew watched Victor as he walked across the room and returned with the coffee. Drew thanked him and sipped it, intending to end with that but continuing instead.

Victor blinked at Drew as he sat beside him and Drew continued to drink. In the light the wall window cast it wasn't hard to see the liquid lowering till the cup was a little less than half full and Drew dropped it to his lap.

"…Should have brought you some earlier," Victor stated.

Drew looked down to the cup and shook his head. He didn't feel thirsty. It was just . . . really good.

"Something wrong?"

Drew looked back up to Victor. After a moment he shook his head. "I'm fine."

Victor smiled. "Alright then. Anything else?"

It was the first session in which Drew finished the coffee while he was there and threw it out as he left. The discussion had been good for him, Drew realized. He felt lighter, just a little more relaxed then the week before that had led up to it. His hands weren't shaking like he had been on May's couch (and consequently in the days that followed, though he had kept that to himself).

It felt good.


	9. Fifty seven

**A/N I don't really have anything to say this time except please review as it helps me to continue. I do it for you guys! :)**

**Hope you like it!**

* * *

"Fifty-seven…fifty-eight…fifty-nine…Sixty. Ten."

Drew stood reaching blindly in the dark for the doorknob somewhere before him. Finding his fingers wrapping around it he tugged, only to be met with the same lock as before. With a sob he dropped back to the floor and curled into himself. She had said ten minutes. Only ten minutes this time. Drew had become very good at counting. She should be opening the door now. Why wasn't she opening the door?

Drew shuddered. She would be here soon. Of course she would. She loved him.

Of course she would.

…He was right.

"Drew?! Oh baby, what are you doing in the closet?"

Drew felt the tears rising beyond his own control as his mother reached into the closet for him. Drew wrapped his arms back around her neck as the tears started to fall. "I'm sorry, mommy," he whispered. "'M sorry."

His mother stiffened. She pulled back, pulling Drew back just far enough to see his face and stared at him with concern. "What are you sorry for?" She looked to the closet behind him. "Baby…" Turning back to him she asked in a worried tone. "…what were you doing in the closet?"

Drew blinked, feeling unbalanced and confused. "Wha-What do…" Unable to even begin to understand what had caused the change in his mother, Drew earnestly spoke the only words that made sense to him. "I'm sorry! Really! Please-Please don't lock me in the closet again. I'll be good. I'll do my job."

His mother's eyes widened in alarm, and then all at once they were calm once more. She took his outstretched hand and stood. "No more closet for you. Let's go to the kitchen. We'll make some lunch. How does that sound?"

Drew coughed on a dry sob and nodded quickly, coming along as they left the room, the closet remaining open.

Drew awoke with those numbers echoing through his head.

Fifty-seven…Fifty-eight…Fifty-nine…

Jolting straight out of bed he sat still for several moments then groaned out loud and buried his head in his hands. He didn't want to think about her. He _never_ thought about her! He hardly remembered his childhood. Tears began to grow behind his eyes but he pushed with his palms and stubbornly choked them down.

_This_ was why he didn't think about his mother.

She was the reason for everything. Everything he couldn't think about, habits he still had that he couldn't remember forming. On some level he knew all of it, but thinking about it consciously? Thinking about it brought _this_. Tears and emotions and things that he hated and had also been habitually taught to stifle.

And so he forgot.

Everything.

Drew flung the covers from his body and jumped from the bed, ignoring the mess behind him and walking straight to the bathroom. He had closed the door for no more than two minutes before the door opened again and Drew, firsts clenched, made his way back to the bed. For several moments he just stared at it. The messed sheets sent his stomach into uncomfortable fits. He knew if he left it he would spend the day with thoughts of the dissaray he had left in the room. But... did he really have to make it when he now remembered why he always did? He knew nothing terrible would really happen. Why did he still feel like he had to do it?

Was she still controlling his life?

"NO!"

With the exclamation he grabbed his clothes from the dresser, threw them on where he stood, grabbed his wallet and bolted down the stairs.

He was already out the door before he registered that he had acted like a child. Clenching his teeth he straitened. It didn't matter. It was better to act like this then to let her continue to control him. He was done. Every habit, every order, everything she had ever told him.

He would never do it again.

Nodding to himself, Drew released his fists and made his way down the street towards the clinic.

Several people passed Drew in the hallway as he sat and waited. He could think of nothing but his dream, his mother and his past. Things he usually couldn't remember sprang to the surface and filled him with fear and anger.

He didn't _want_ to remember.

When it became time, Drew sprang from his seat and started up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Victor jumped as his door was knocked on and then immediately opened. He smiled when he realized who it was, looking at him quizzically from his position over the table. "Alright, there?"

Drew was breathing deeply, arms locked at his sides. With the words he began to pull himself together. He walked straight to the chair and sat down fully in it.

Looking to him with concern, Victor walked across the room and sat down beside him. "Are you alright?"

Drew stared across the room with a troubled frown and didn't say a word.

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"I saw her." Drew started. "In my dreams last night."

Victor looked genuinely surprised but Drew missed this, caught into his thoughts. "My _mother_," he hissed the words under his breath with anger, like a curse.

Victor blinked. Wary to say anything, less he should interrupt any real progress, he quietly reached under the chair and placed a notepad on his lap. When Drew remained silent he asked carefully. "What about your mother?"

Drew's jaw clenched, his shoulders stiffening. "I saw…I remembered something."

"What did you remember?"

"My mum…" Drew's eyes became different. "She locked me in a closet."

A thud from his right caused Drew to turn. Victor stared at Drew with wide, surprised eyes. His pad, previously on his lap, now lay on the floor.

Victor swallowed and reached down to pick up the pad. "I'm sorry," he whispered, avoiding Drew's gaze. "Go on."

Drew had already been pulled out of his thoughts by Victor's fumble, but he was so upset that he quickly fell back into the same mindset.

"She used to lock me in the closet when she got mad at me…when I did something wrong. It wasn't my fault, I can see that _now_. But at the time I thought it was. I thought I was bad just because she told me so." Drew's hands began to shake. "She-I hate…" Drew hated drama, at least when it came from him. He was calm. He was controlled. But now . . . His head dropped to his hands. "I don't know what to think. It's been so longs since I thought about all this. And now suddenly I'm remembering everything and I…I just…" Drew choked, trying with everything he had to hold back sobs as he hid behind his hands. He could feel tears forming, overwhelming him.

It was several moments before he realized that Victor wasn't saying something, and though he had merely needed to speak, he hadn't realized he had expected more of a response.

Drew swallowed and raised his head from his hands. Victor stared back with a strangely vacant but sad expression, but said nothing.

Drew frowned. Why did this feel wrong? Did he want him to... say something? He sat up fully and looked away uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry, Drew," Victor finally stated, some of the last words he wanted to hear. They felt so hollow, so unnatural to hear from a man.

"Forget it," Drew muttered standing. "I have to go."

Victor frowned. "Not yet." Drew blinked and turned to him. Victor took a breath. "Sit down."

Drew stared at him for a moment before sitting.

Victor sighed deeply and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry. I should have said more, I'm just…this is a difficult subject for me." He gave Drew a half smile. "I'm not as untouchable as I may seem."

Drew frowned and looked at the floor, more bothered than he thought he should be at the thought that Victor couldn't handle his problems.

"Don't worry."

Drew looked up when Victor spoke to him again and sent him a comforting smile.

"We'll talk about it."

Drew bit his lip and finally nodded.

Victor allowed Drew to gather some of his bearings before he began to speak. "So what brought this on?"

Drew gulped. "I don't know," he whispered.

Victor nodded. "You dreamed it?"

Drew nodded, looking at the floor. "But it wasn't a dream. It was a memory…It was so real." The last part was so hushed that Victor could barely hear it. "I felt just like I did back then, completely scared of something as simple as a closet door. It was like I was never going to get out…." Squinting his eyes, Drew admitted quietly, "I was terrified."

Victor waited a moment then asked. "Why do you think you were so scared?"

Drew's expression pulled at the question but he thought about it anyway, finally shrugging. "I don't know. No matter what I did back then she was in charge. She could hurt me or lock me in a closet and no one cared a bit, not even my own father." Drew swallowed, his shoulders coming around him. "I could have died….She could have left me there and I doubt anyone would have cared. At some level…I always knew that."

It was that phrase that made Drew's joints lock, as frozen as he had sometimes felt in that closet. A primal fear he had never been able to rid himself of. The feeling of complete and utter helplessness. Like being in the jaws of a monster that could do absolutely anything to you, depraved and painful things. And on top of that the knowledge that nobody else in the world knew. And because of that it could go on forever. An eternity of fear unfolding before you.

Drew's teeth clenched and he folded into himself more.

Victor watched the change with wide eyes, seeing a five-year-old's terror rising in Drew's eyes. Despite himself he found it fascinating. It was rare that a fear ran so deep that someone lost themselves in their younger self's emotions.

Reactions such as these were born from the deepest of ingrained terrors, things that a person had come to believe so deeply they couldn't part with the ideas even when they grew up. Like with Drew, these fears were usually caused by parents in young children. And children believed their parents, even depraved parents, so deeply that they didn't question the cruelest of ideas. Not even when those ideas threw their lives into chaos.

Such fears were ingrained into the person themselves, and were often very, very self-destructive.

This was a delicate case, and Drew could be much closer to a mental disease then he was aware of. Victor deliberated about how to continue. He couldn't leave Drew in his frozen state, but pulling him out of it would be difficult to cure. He needed to stay in touch with the younger Drew showing through Drew's emotions, which meant that for a few more minutes…

…Drew would have to stay in the same mind frame.

"It is scary."

Drew stiffened.

"It's dark, and you're right, you could be in there for a long time."

Drew winced, looking a tad annoyed all of a sudden.

"What do you remember?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Drew swallowed almost imperceptibly and looked away, shaking his head.

Victor frowned. "Was it dark?"

Drew half shrugged, then nodded.

"Could you see light coming in from under the door?"

Drew shook his head, "no."

"Were you ever afraid of anything inside the closet with you?"

Drew bit his lip, his expression becoming troubled. Victor was willing to bet a lot of money that Drew had had the childish fear that something was in the closet with him. He was also willing to bet that that fear still ran deep, even without Drew noticing. That Drew now manifested those fears by sleeping with a light on or the door open. All without thought. All because of this.

"Was your father home?"

Drew's eyes became wide. He looked up to Victor with a shocked expression, as if he couldn't believe Victor would ask that, or couldn't in any way answer.

"He was home." Victor answered his own question, still in that soft tone. "Why didn't he come to you?"

Drew's lower lip trembled before he bit it. "I want…" his sentence trailed off and his voice was so quiet that Victor easily continued above it.

"Why did he leave you in the closet? Did he know?"

Drew winced and raised a hand to rub at his eye quickly and shook his head. He mumbled something, but Victor continued.

"Did he know what was going on and let it happen anyway?"

Drew was breathing deeply, his teeth clenching. "I want…." He continued the sentence in the same quiet tone.

"Why didn't he stop it? Do you know?"

Drew raised his second hand to his head and clenched it tightly, shaking his head. It was too much. In his mind he was still in the closet, struggling to understand why his father sat right outside and did nothing.

"I want…"

"Drew," Victor asked firmly. "Do you know?"

Drew shook his head.

With a new idea in mind Victor knew he had to ask while he might still get an answer. "Did he hurt you too?"

"I want to stop." Drew whispered in a pained voice behind his hands.

"Did he hurt you?

"I-I want to stop."

"I need to know, Drew."

Drew shook his head, his finger nails starting to dig into his hair.

Victor stared at Drew carefully and asked again. "What did he do?"

"I said I'm done," Drew groaned. When another sound came from Victor, the start of another question, Drew felt his careful control snap, the fear he was forced to experience breaking every barrier he had set up. "I want to_ stop!_" Dropping his hands Drew turned to Victor with a wild and angry expression, momentarily forgetting the tears in his own eyes.

There was a silence.

Victor finally recognized this as the end of the conversation and nodded comfortingly. "Then we'll stop," he stated calmly.

Drew's eyes widened. He came back to himself with the words, realizing how he was acting with a jolt of shock. With the realization he noticed the tears pricking his own eyes and quickly ducked his head, wiping them away on his sleeve.

"I'm done," he whispered again. "I'm done."

Victor nodded. "We're done," he agreed.

Drew rubbed at his eyes and pulled himself from his thoughts, gathering himself slowly but surely. It took several minutes.

When he was calm enough Victor asked quietly. "Coffee?"

Drew choked on a bitter laugh but nodded. Victor pushed the cup towards him and hearing it Drew reached out to his side blindly and brought the cup to his mouth, starting to calm down as he sipped it.

Victor blinked as Drew drank, and continued to drink till the cup was empty.

Drew looked at the empty coffee cup and stared at it. Victor watched him rub the fingers of his right hand together before he placed the cup on the table and looked away, a frown on his face.

Victor watched him in concern.

After several moments Drew bit his lip, pulling in a breath. He wasn't sure what to say, whether to apologize or not. This was a therapy session. For all he knew Victor may have been happy about his breakdown. But still. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

Victor shook his head, switching mindsets quickly. "Happens all the time," he consoled.

Drew felt numb to the words, but nodded calmly. "Can I go home now?" he asked tiredly a few minutes later.

Victor looked at the clock. "That should be fine. I think we've talked enough for one day. Can you come in on Friday?"

Drew nodded. "Thanks." He raised himself from the chair, coffee in hand, and turned to face Victor, realizing what he had just sat through. He winced. "Really."

Victor nodded. "No problem. See you on Friday."

Drew nodded and hurried from the room.

Drew still felt shaky as he made his way down the stairs. He felt pulled into his thoughts, away from the real world and overcome with emotions. He didn't think it was something he could throw off anytime soon but he hoped it was over quickly.

When he door to the outside he made his way to the fountain and sat on its edge. His legs were shaky. He could feel the smallest of sprinkles on his back but ignored it. The sun beat hot overhead and made up for the water.

Why had he reacted like that? Why did he still feel like this? Why couldn't he get his mother out of his mind? Drew bit his lip and dropped his head into his hand. He couldn't think about this anymore. He would go crazy. What could he do to distract himself? There had to be something, someone he could go to.

For a moment his mind stuck on one person, and still in this mindset he stood and began to make her way to her house, intent on at least sitting in her presence while she talked away.

Somehow that overly cheery attitude always helped.

* * *

"May! Drew's here!"

Drew watched Max make his way back into the house and waited patiently as May made her way to the door. When she arrived she looked at him in surprise then smiled. "Hey!" Her expression came together. "Are you alright?"

Drew swallowed and shook his head, offering a forced smile. "I'm okay," he answered quietly.

May knew by his tone that something was bothering him but that he was stating he would make it through. If she could just get him alone then he might talk about it. She gestured for him to come in and started towards the stairs. "Mom! We're going upstairs!" She called.

Caroline glanced out of the kitchen as they started up. "Oh Drew! Nice to see you. Joining us for dinner?"

Dinner was still a few hours off, but Drew and May tended to have times where they would talk for that whole period.

Drew looked to May who shrugged in an 'it's up to you' fashion. Drew looked back to her and gave a small smile. "Sure."

"Alright then." She smiled back and retreated back into the kitchen once more.

May pulled on Drew's arm and they started up the stairs, crossing them quickly till they were to the top and May led them to her room. "Sorry, it's a little messy. My partner from school was just over."

Drew nodded. May was attending a private school nearby. While May was a bit of a clueless classic, she did alright in school. In the subjects she loved, she flourished. In the others… not so much.

May plopped onto the bed and began to close her school books, making it obvious where they had been doing their work. Drew stood by awkwardly while she did it till she placed the books aside and motioned to the small couch sitting area beneath the window.

Drew sat and leaned against the frame silently.

May frowned. "Rough day?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

May placed her books aside and made herself comfortable beside him. "What was it?"

May was the only one with even a bit of an idea to what his childhood had been like. They had met when they were children, just under ten. As Drew had emancipated himself when he was fifteen, he had still been living with his parents at the time. Much of the abuse had become silent by that point. His parents and him didn't speak of it, at an understanding that had been established when he was very young. It was something that became natural at a certain point. They didn't have to talk about it. He knew that they could do what they wanted, and they knew that he wouldn't tell. Both understood it, and somehow it was fact, though it didn't make any sense at all.

At nine years old, Drew had come to school with bags under his eyes for a week, and May, ever the helpful sweetheart, had set him under her observation and asked him why he was so tired. Drew had ignored her for a quite a while before her nagging became incessant, at which point he had snapped. _"I'm just tired, okay!"_

May had frowned. Despite his words she was encouraged by the fact that he was responding at all. _"Why?"_

Drew had sneered and sat back in his chair. _"None of your business, Barbie."_

May had glared back as Drew looked stubbornly away. _"It's just a question."_

"_Why should I tell you?"_

"_Don't you think you should take better care of yourself?"_

Drew rolled his eyes._ "I know how to take care of myself. Worry about yourself."_

"_What's wrong with me worrying about you?"_

Drew had blinked, turning back to her as if suddenly realizing that yes, she was worried about him. But why? And he raised an eyebrow as if to back up the question_. "Why do you care?"_

May blinked back._ "Um…"_ When Drew had chuckled she stood up fully with an annoyed frown and yelled the only thing that sounded like it made sense._ "I'm allowed to worry about my friends!"_

Drew stared back. _"Since when are we friends?"_

May blushed at her own hurried words. _"Since…Since right now!"_

Drew had only blinked. Then he sat up in his chair and stared at his desk, expression notably less despondent._ "Well…alright then."_

Though it was slow at first, one rushed friendship turned into a deeper one as May checked in with him after class and said 'hi' when they crossed paths. It wasn't long before Drew began to respond more positively to her actions.

Drew and May didn't live far from each other and when May realized this they began to walk home together. They would reach Drew's house first. He would never let her come in but would wave goodbye and send her on her way.

And one day May had decided to stop and say hi.

It was a Saturday, and May was feeling bored if not a little bit lonely. She ventured outside and and neared Drew's house. Gathering her courage (it was the first time she had been to Drew's house) she walked up and knocked on the door.

Drew's mother answered and looked down at May with surprised eyes. "Oh, hello. What can I do for you?"

"Um…is Drew here?" May asked nervously.

The woman's brow came together. "He's busy at the moment dear. I'll let him know you stopped by."

"Oh, okay…"

The woman smiled and the door was shut before May had finished her sentence. She stared at the door awkwardly for a moment, then turned and walked away.

The following week Drew didn't come to school. May's concern mounted. Visions filled her mind. Thoughts of him being sick escalated to thoughts of him being hurt or in the hospital, and why wasn't he calling her to tell her what was going on? It was halfway into a second week when May couldn't take it any longer. On her way home she stopped at his house and knocked. Again, there was no answer.

May deliberated about going home, but she had barely thought of anything but him for the past week. It wasn't like Drew to skip so much school. She knew from talking with Drew in passing that he was often home alone when his parents were gone. She looked to the driveway and found the car gone. A feeling stirred in her stomach. She wondered if he was okay. Fear filled thoughts ran through her head, visions of Drew in the hospital, of that being the reason they weren't home.

She knew she shouldn't. But she had considered seeing him so much in the last two weeks that the idea had built to the point that she just couldn't leave him alone. She thought again of the possibility of him hurt, the only thing that seemed to make sense. In her fear, she gathered the rest of her courage and pushed open the door. The house was relatively nice, with some pieces of décor that were far more expensive than May's young mind could comprehend. The house was silent and May stepped in quietly, looking around nervously. Remembering the empty driveway May called quietly in case he were home alone. "Drew?"

When nothing answered her May tentatively started towards the stairs. It was obvious from the front rooms that there were no bedrooms downstairs and she hoped if he were sick she would find him upstairs. When May reached the top she found five doors in the hallway before her. Squashing the voice inside of her telling her that this was a stupid idea she called again for Drew. A noise came from her left and May turned to the door that had answered her call. Gulping she knocked tentatively. "Drew?" When nothing answered her, she bit her lip beginning to feel chills. "Drew, it's May."

A sudden flurry of noise came from behind the door and May stepped back to find the door flung open before her. May stared wide-eyed at the same grassy hair she had missed for the last week and a half. She smiled in relief, tears rose, and Drew found himself surprised and on the receiving end of a punch that startled him enough to make him fall back into his room.

"You jerk!"

Drew turned back to her with wide eyes. Tears were building in hers. She stared back at him defiantly.

"We're supposed to be friends. That means that when you're gone from school for two weeks you call me so I don't worry about you! That's one of the first rules!"

And suddenly Drew was frozen, May between his legs and holding tightly to his shirt as she cried and yelled into it. "You're so stupid!"

Drew didn't know how to respond to the touching and so he tentatively brought his hands to her shoulders. A strange feeling blossomed in his chest, something he couldn't describe, warmed somehow by her tears for him.

"Why didn't you call me?" she asked as she began to cry.

Drew sighed, a smile coming despite himself. "May, I don't have your number," he replied patronizingly.

May sniffled into his shirt. "That's no excuse!"

Drew rolled his eyes. "You're getting my shirt all wet."

But May held on tight so Drew sighed and resigned himself to the tearful hugging. When May had calmed herself enough to pull back Drew looked at her face.

"How'd you get in?"

"I came in the front door." May sniffled, trying to pull herself together.

Drew seemed surprised. "It was . . . unlocked?" His eyes became dark and he looked away. "Figures…" he whispered.

May blinked, then looking over his form and finding him in comfy long sleeves asked, "Where have you been?"

Drew turned back to her. "Yeah…um, sorry. I've been sick."

May blinked. "This long?"

Drew nodded vaguely, looking away. "I'm sorry."

May paid of Drew's first apology ever to the sickness still in his system.

She sighed and stood, wiping her tears quickly and looking at his face. "You do look tired."

Drew looked troubled, then shrugged. "Yeah," he muttered.

May sighed and held out her hand to him. "Get up."

Drew took the hand. When he had stood May didn't let go, but instead led him to his bed and pushed him down. Drew raised an eyebrow. "What are you doing?"

May rolled her eyes "Go to sleep. I'll take care of you today."

Drew looked away. "You can't."

May frowned. "Why not?"

"Look, you just…you have to go home. I want you here but…just not today. Okay?"

May pursed her lips. "Then when?"

Drew shifted uneasily.

"Drew, you never let me in your house! Why not?"

Drew looked away. "I get sick a lot. I don't want you to get sick too."

May raised an eyebrow in return. "No you don't."

Drew winced. "Yes I do," he stated back defiantly.

"This is the first week of school you've missed."

Drew looked back to her in surprise to realize that she had noticed him before they had even become friends, then shrugged and rushed. "Well, usually I'm more sick a lot more often."

"…Are you sure?"

Drew was surprised by the tone. "What do you mean?"

"You're with me all the time. Wouldn't I get sick just by being with you?"

Drew began to get uncomfortable and scramble for more answers.

In his silence May looked around his room. It was immaculate. "Wow. Clean." She commented.

Drew scoffed.

In it's clean state it wasn't hard for May to see the one thing out of place, the open closet and the blankets falling out through the open door. "Why do you have blankets in your closet?"

"Because that's where I keep them."

"Why don't you keep them on your bed?"

Drew sighed. "I have enough blankets on my bed."

May looked at it. "If you're sick why haven't you been in bed? It's all neat."

Drew clenched his teeth. "I think you better go May."

May looked at him in surprise and hurt. "Why? I'm only asking questions."

Drew looked further away.

May didn't respond and Drew began to shift uncomfortably.

A small flame lit inside of May. Something she didn't understand. A feeling that an adult would have understood, but new for a child. A feeling of warning. A feeling that says 'something's wrong.'

May wasn't sure what to do. Being the trusting person she was, she had trouble understanding what could possibly be wrong, or why Drew would be lying to her.

May watched Drew shift and turned back to the closet, trying to put the pieces together, but none of it made sense. Again, she tried to ignore it. Nothing was wrong.

With a breath of annoyance, May made her way over to the closet.

Drew's eyes widened. "Wait, no May!" Drew rose from the bed, bringing some of the covers with him, but it was too late. May had already opened the door.

She stared at the floor, confused, finding only more blankets. Other than that, the closet was perfectly clean, with only boxes on the shelf above her head.

Drew remained frozen behind her, watching warily,

"Drew…what…" Why was this an issue? Drew's shoulders dropped a bit in relief, and then May turned right. An eyebrow rose. "Why do you have dresses in your closet?"

Drew sighed and fell back on the bed.

May turned to see the resigned look on his face. A moment of silence passed between them while Drew stared at the door and May waited. Drew realized the pointlessness of trying to hide all of it.

"Drew?" May asked.

"... My mum wanted a girl."

May blinked and turned back to the dresses.

"I don't understand," she started. "If…Why are they in your closet?"

Drew groaned. "You're so annoying," he muttered under his breath.

May heard the comment and frowned.

Drew sighed. "Fine. Come here."

Slowly, May made her way back to the bed and sat next to him.

"You can't tell anyone," he said first.

May blinked. The sentence had come in a rush. It was the way a nine year old would start a secret. She nodded quickly.

He winced at his own words then went on. Drew was used to controlling his actions but now his hands pushed into the bed between his legs nervously. "It's just my mu-my mom. She's sick,_I_ think." He struggled to explain the reason for the dresses without going too far. "It's her way of reminding me that I'm not what she wanted."

May stared at him, troubled. "Why…Why would a mother do that?" she asked in a whisper. It was like hearing a story about someone she had never met. She could hardly feel about it. She thought of her mother, of almost every mother she had ever met. They seemed forever connected to love. She had a difficult time understanding how the action could even be possible of a mother.

Drew shrugged, looking at the floor. "Like I said," he whispered. "She's sick."

May had looked warily back to the closet. "Soooo…she just leaves them in there?"

Drew's eyes became sad. He looked away awkwardly. "Well, yeah. I've tried to take them out, but she goes into this weird fit when I do. When I was younger she…she tried to put them on me, but dad didn't really like that, so she doesn't do that anymore."

May, although bothered by the words, could only nod. Drew appeared to be coping well for living in this type of life. It was no wonder he became so quiet at times.

"The blankets?"

Drew stared at them quietly. "That's me," he whispered. May frowned. So it was him keeping them in there on purpose.

"Why?"

Drew bit his lip. "Sometimes…Sometimes I sleep…in there."

May didn't know what to do with that. Such an awkward sentence. It wasn't hard to tell that it came back to his mother. May looked at the bed, still well made and realized what it meant. "So…have…have you really been sick?" she asked carefully.

Drew stilled. His feet rubbed together idly for a moment. "Yes," he whispered finally. "Mostly."

"Mostly?"

Drew sighed. "My mum's weird about me. She gets protective. She didn't like that you came over last week so she's trying to keep me away from you for a while."

May's eyes widened. "Why?"

Drew looked annoyed. "I told you. She's sick."

"But why me?" May asked, feeling hurt.

Drew stared at the blankets for a moment, then looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "It's . . . not about you at all, May."

May looked back to the closet. It didn't make sense, but it didn't need to. Not for someone who was sick.

All at once it had all come together. Drew's tired eyes. His constant solitude. His easy acceptance when she had declared them friends.

May felt her heart reach for him. Drew sat still beside him. May reached forward and grabbed his hand and he looked down in surprise. She smiled. "Well, I'm still taking care of you today."

Drew tried to hide his reaction, but the gratitude and relief showing through was enough to make it worth it.

* * *

With that, their friendship had grown.

Drew had needed to speak, to tell someone of his thoughts of his mother, no matter how few. His father would have never listened, and Drew had never had any friends, nervous of their judgment. The thought process continued as he grew older. He was the semblance of popular, but kept everyone at a distance. Everyone except May, who lacked judgment in anything he told her.

But even she didn't know everything. All she knew was what Drew had told her when he was nine. _"She's sick."_

Now they sat together quietly. "What is it?" May asked.

Drew didn't want to tell her. He couldn't tell her. He thought of Caroline downstairs, smiling as she saw them up. May would never understand. Some, but not everything. She had no concept of a truly cruel mother, despite what he had told her.

She wouldn't understand.

Though the thought hurt, he felt it was true. What he really wanted was for her to smile and start talking, distracting him.

May meanwhile was pulled back mentally to their childhood, the two of them sitting on Drew's bed as he was staring into distance, much like he was then.

"Nothing," he said finally.

"You're lying."

Drew looked at May in surprise. He wasn't used to her being so...bold. But she only stared back at him firmly.

"What do you mean?"

"You're lying," she stated again, calmly. "I've known you for a long time. This is the same look you had when we were kids…when you talked about your mother."

Drew couldn't help his surprise. May remembered that? His expression?

Then he realized she was right. Quickly he looked away. He _was_ thinking about his mother, and he didn't want her to put those pieces together. "I'm fine."

May raised an eyebrow and sighed. She scooted back to sit against the sideboard and watched him as he looked away. "You know you _can_ talk to me." May watched Drew go still. "I know you think you can't, I don't know why, but you can. I won't judge you, or your parents. I promise."

Drew stiffened. It was tempting. So tempting. But he shouldn't. She _wouldn't_ understand.

"It's my mother." Drew was surprised to hear his own voice. The words torn from his pursed his lips. But now that he had started he carefully moved on, trying not to say too much. "I've been thinking about her."

May's eyes saddened. "How long has it been?"

It took him a moment to understand what she was asking. Then he realized she was asking when his parents had died. "Oh, um, about six months."

"I'm sorry."

Drew blinked, then shook his head. "No, May, it's not about that. I don't care about that."

May blinked. "You don't…" She frowned. "You can't tell me you don't care about your parents dying."

Drew suddenly realized, with her looking at him, how strange it sounded. He hadn't felt anything. Finding out about their death was merely news. Well, there were a _couple_ of things he would have liked to have said before then, but he could live without seeing them ever again, even without that. "I…" How did he explain _that_ to her?

May looked to him in concern. "Then…what?"

Drew wondered if he should talk to her. She already seemed confused. Swallowing he continued. "I thought about her. When I was a kid."

"Oh." She shifted. "What about?"

Drew bit his lip. "Just…remembering things."

Realizing Drew couldn't talk about it she ventured, "Bad things?"

Drew bit the inside of his lip, an accidental habit to hide when he wanted to bite his lip, that was now subconscious action. "Yeah…bad things."

May nodded. "I understand."

She didn't, not really. But she understood enough.

"Do you need to talk?"

Drew shook his head. "I talked with Victor. I just…I wanted to see you."

May smiled while Drew looked away at his own admittance (blushing slightly, which he hated).

Seeing his blush prompted her own and she looked to the bed, picking lightly at the cover. "How's that going?" she asked softly.

"Pretty good."

May nodded. "Okay then."

There was an awkward silence which May quickly broke by bringing her hands together. "Guess what happened to me in school today?"

Drew smirked. "Failed another test?"

A pillow hitting him upside the head ended that conversation.

Drew was sincerely happy that he had a friend like May.

And with the time they spent talking, Caroline had been right to make extra dinner.


	10. Friend or Lover?

**A/N :P This chapter title may be slightly deceitful (or at least not what you were expecting) but I hope you all enjoy it anyway. :)**

**For my grammar concious readers. :P I'm sorry. My processor corrects a lot of my words. So usually when you correct me I DO already know what you are telling me but I overlooked it or it was changed automatically by my system. So sorry about that. I'll try to make this the last authors note concerning grammar for the story but please keep this in mind. Hopefully the content will make up for those errors. If I had time, I would fix them. I'm sorry. :P Thank you for your patience.**

**Please review, and thank you to those of you who do. :) I really appreciate the feedback on these chapters. I have a very busy schedule and taking time to write is hard to do. It is, and this is real, my reviewers who inspire me to keep writing. Without them I wouldn't continue to update. So thank you!**

* * *

"I don't like it here."

Ash looked to Misty curiously. She was looking around the building (Drew's psychiatric facility) with a pinched expression.

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I don't know. I've just never really liked the idea of somebody getting inside my head. And this place is about nothing _but_ that."

"They're helping people."

"I know. . . . I'm just glad it's not happening to me."

May sighed from a few feet away and Misty winced.

"I think it's good," May started quietly. "You have to care to work with people like this so much, day after day. It's a little scary. . . But they are helping people. I mean Drew-he doesn't talk about anything. You have to know him to know anything about him. His psychologist is getting him to talk and to do that he must be a good person because Drew doesn't open up to anyone." She smiled lightly. "I was a little nervous, but now I'm just kind of relieved. He's actually talking to someone. I'm really thankful . . ."

Ash and Misty stared, Ash calmly and Misty with something like pity.

"Well," Misty finally stated. "I guess you're right about that."

Two voices from across the hall stopped their conversation. May turned at Drew's voice and found him talking to a man with blond hair. The two shook hands and the man turned and spoke to the receptionist.

May smiled and stood.

"Drew!"

Drew turned to find May, Ash and Misty approaching, May ahead. She stopped before the two with a smile. For a moment Drew only stared at her, then remembering where he was he shook his head and turned to Victor. "These are my friends. Ash, Misty, and May."

Victor nodded at the receptionist in response and to end their short conversation and looked where Drew had directed.

Seeing the confusion and curiosity on his friends faces Drew explained. "This is my . . . my-"

Victor came to his rescue. "We meet a couple times a week."

Drew smiled a pained smile. "Yeah. That."

May's eyes showed recognition. "Oh! You're Doctor Vanrae!"

Victor's eyes switched from May to Misty. Drew wondered what he was doing before he announced. "You're May." Drew realized that he hadn't specified who was who and that Victor had been drawing conclusions. He mentally hit himself over the head while May nodded and smiled.

May's smile was contagious. Victor felt the corner of his mouth turning up. "Well. . . I've heard a lot about you."

May glanced at Drew, who felt his heart jump suddenly, a heat starting to come over his face.

"All of you really," Victor finished quickly, realizing what he had done.

Drew resisted the urge to laugh nervously and make a fool of himself.

"Nice to meet you." Ash placed his hand before May and shook with Victor.

"You as well." Victor glanced to Misty who gave him a smile (though slightly pained) and a nod. "Well, I don't mean to be rude, but I have another session in just a few minutes so I need to run an errand. Nice to meet you all." Victor smiled at Ash, Misty, and May in turn and switched quickly to Drew. "I'll see you next time."

Drew nodded and the three watched Victor go through a different door beside the receptionist's office.

There was a moment of silence. "So that's your-that's him?" Misty stated.

Drew nodded. "Yeah. That's Victor."

May looked to Drew in confusion, realizing that he had referred to Victor in the same way the last time they had talked about him. "You call him by his first name?"

Quickly Misty interrupted. "Why don't we go?"

Drew paused and stared back at May, then shrugged. "He's like that," he explained vaguely.

As May took in the comment she smiled. _That_ was why Victor was able to get through to him. Because he wasn't uptight and stuffy (regardless of the way he radiated something, in a word, regal). He must have been talking to Drew like another person would instead of a doctor.

"I'm ready to go."

Ash sighed. "You weren't this uptight last time we were here."

Misty frowned. "I'm not uptight. Just ready." She glanced to Drew and thankfully Ash didn't say more on the subject. Misty didn't want to make the place out to be worse than he imagined it.

"Well, I'm done," Drew stated with a slight shrug.

Ash and Misty watched in amusement as May grabbed Drew by one of the arms and spun him around quickly, starting towards the door, letting out a quick giggle at his surprised expression.

Misty smiled. "They'll make a cute couple."

After a moment of silence, Misty looked at Ash curiously. It wasn't like him to have no response. She found him staring after the two of them thoughtfully. "What is it?" she asked.

Ash swallowed. "Nothing." Quickly he shook his head and gave her a half smile. "You're right."

A bigger smile followed, and Misty was much too flustered with the hand that suddenly found its way into hers to question his previous words.

* * *

"Fresh air!" May exclaimed, thrusting her hands into the air as they left the building.

Drew narrowly avoided the hand nearest him and sighed. "Yes. Air."

May glanced at him suspiciously. "Why so serious?"

Annoyed at the pun, Drew showed it in his expression and asked, "Why so curious?"

May sighed. "C'mon Drew. It's a beautiful day! Lighten up!"

Drew looked up to the blue sky and stated, "I don't know what the sky has to do with lightening up."

"You're just doing this to bug me."

"Guilty as charged."

May sighed again.

Behind them Misty spoke up. "May, want to go shopping? I have something I need to pick up."

Drew raised an eyebrow as May turned with light filling her eyes that was none to familiar. "You just finished saying that it was a beautiful day, and now you're going to spend it shopping?"

May pouted. Misty quickly filled in. "The weather doesn't affect shopping."

"Like it affects my attitude? Ouch." Drew rubbed his stomach and glared at May for the elbow.

"I'd love to," she stated with a smile.

Drew rolled his eyes. "Of course you would."

Looking over the three of them Ash shrugged. "Well if you're going shopping, I'm going home."

"You have to come."

Ash frowned. "Why do I have to come?"

"_Because_, who's going to carry everything?"

Ash mock-glared at Misty, despite the teasing tone. "Fine."

Drew looked at the three and sighed deeply. "Guess my mind is made up. Let's go." Drew turned and started toward the gate around the building prompting the others to hurry to follow.

May shook her head and ran after him. Such was Drew…

* * *

"What do you think?"

"Oh my gosh, it's so pretty!"

Drew sighed. Beside him Ash almost smiled but hid it well. Drew glanced at him. "Why aren't you as annoyed as I am?"

"I've had a lot of practice with this."

Drew rolled his eyes. "So have I." He watched May flitter around the outfit Misty was wearing. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

After a moment Drew took notice of a scuffing sound and looked down to find the sound coming from Ash's feet. He smirked. "Not as relaxed as you're making yourself out to be."

"Maybe not. . ." He watched as Misty responded to the positivity May was giving with a blush and glanced in his direction. He had come to realize over the last few years that Misty was in no way confident of her appearance. Though many would say it was a woman thing, Ash didn't think it was. There were plenty of girls who would pose in front of a camera and then act like they weren't pretty. Misty wasn't like that. She was honestly humble and nervous about her appearance. There were reasons for that, but they were unnecessary. As a child Ash had found it easy to just be a friend to her, especially considering that she was child too and though she was ready mentally to be a woman she wasn't quite there yet. It was easy to tease her as he would any other friend, even about her looks.

But now . . .

Drew raised an eyebrow, then sighed and shook his head. "Ah."

Ash blinked. Turning to Drew slowly he asked, "What?"

Eyebrow still raised he glanced over to Ash and didn't say a word, his expression of "really?" said it all.

Ash felt himself starting to blush. "What?" he stated again.

Drew rolled his eyes and looked back to the two. "Do I even have to say anything?"

Ash tried valiantly to hide the slightest of blushes. Still a bit flustered he muttered, "Yeah. Usually. You're not very good at biting your tongue…from experience."

Drew's expression blanked. "Sure."

Ash sighed. "You're right. This is tiring." He watched Misty place the outfit on a rack and call May. The two of them made there way around to the next one, just barely out of sight of the entrance where Ash and Drew stood. On instinct Drew began to lean but turned to Ash when he spoke, a slight smirk on his lips. "Want to run?"

Drew blinked, then realizing what Ash was suggesting he smirked and glanced back to the store, seeing the two still out of sight. "Won't have better timing."

Ash smiled back and nodded behind them. Drew followed Ash quickly as he left.

* * *

"Where did they go?"

"Hmm?"

"Drew and Ash."

May looked to the entrance to the store and sighed. "Oh well."

Misty sighed and looked back to the clothes rack's her hands slowing on the fabric. She almost laughed as a thought occurred to her. "You know, I think Drew's a bad influence on Ash."

May looked up with an only slightly offended expression. "What do you mean?"

Misty shrugged with a smile. "Just saying that walking off in the middle of something is a very Drew-like thing to do. Like this morning."

May frowned and looked back to the rack in front of her. "That's kind of funny considering how Ash is." She smiled. "I'm willing to bet that it was Ash's idea."

Misty paused to consider this then sighed and shrugged. "Guess it's just a man thing."

May stifled a giggle. "Oh, look at this!"

Misty nodded as May lifted the dress. "Pretty," she agreed.

May watched Misty in confusion. "Are you done?"

"Um . . . yeah, actually. I think I'm finished."

May blinked. "And what you needed to pick up?"

Misty shrugged and looked down to the rack intently. "I'm. . . I'm good."

May stared in confusion. "Okaaay."

Misty half rolled her eyes.

"Why are we here?" May asked, realizing there had been something else behind Misty's actions.

Misty shrugged and looked away uncomfortably. "To shop."

May sighed. "Alright, don't tell me." She began to go through the rack just a bit faster then before.

"It was . . . a test? Kind of…"

May blinked and looked up. "A test? What do you mean?"

Misty looked up at her nervously. "I guess I just wanted to see . . .what his reaction. . . would be." She stated it nervously, aware of how ridiculous it sounded.

"Oh! The dress?"

Misty nodded, a slight blush starting.

"That was really pretty."

Misty shrugged back. "Yeah, well. There wasn't really any reaction so I guess I know what that means. The same as when we were kids, nothing has changed."

May frowned, beginning to understand where Misty was coming from. They had never flat out talked about Misty's feelings for Ash, but it wasn't hard to see that they were there. "You don't think anything has changed?"

"Has it?"

May looked down to the clothes. For a moment her hand stayed on a sweater. There was a snag in this one… "Ash isn't like that," May started. "I don't think you have anything to worry about."

Misty tried not to roll her eyes for fear of being rude. "Ash _is_ like that. I've known him for a long time and I've seen those reactions to other girls… time and time again."

She sighed.

"Don't you think… that's kind of unfair?" May asked nervously.

Misty looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"Well… I mean, you're in a store. And you're shopping…. And he's a _guy_. You probably shouldn't expect the same reaction to when you're on like, a date or something."

Misty blinked. "But what's the difference really? I'm not trying to make him say anything, I just think that if… if something was there, wouldn't he notice…even now?"

May paused. "I don't know." For a moment she thought and then a light lit. "Oh! Like Drew. Take him for example."

Misty nodded.

May blinked then frowned.

Misty giggled. "Forgot what you were going to say?"

May humphed. "I had a point to that."

Misty laughed. "Yeah, I think I know where you were going with that. Drew's kind of uptight."

"Not really."

Misty looked at May in surprise.

"He's uptight about his past but not really anything else. It's easy for him to insult people or respond quickly and he's really good at everything he does and isn't afraid to admit it. He's very open really, just not about his innermost thoughts. And I think Ash might be that way a little bit too."

Misty smiled despite herself. "Ash is actually pretty open about his feelings. Sometimes…" she looked down, subconsciously running her hand over the fabric before her. "He's almost the opposite of Drew. Sometimes he actually underestimates himself. Always in the moment… and then he pulls through and you learn pretty quick that you can always count on him because even when he does underestimate himself he still keeps trying. It's easy to tell him that he'll pull through. It's easy to support him because he always does."

A moment later Misty felt May's eyes on her and looked up.

"You love him, don't you?" May asked quietly.

Misty's mouth opened in a small gasp that even May couldn't hear. Emotion clogged her throat and she ducked again. A nervous laugh started. "I-I realized a long time ago that it was pointless. I don't mean that in a cruel way-I just, I thought maybe something might've changed. That now that we're grown up it would be a little different." She swallowed. "I don't think I can do this much longer. It-It hurts too much." May heard the emotion Misty tried to swallow at the end of her sentence. "Maybe that's why I did that today. I'm so overwhelmed that I'm doing stupid things. It's ridiculous, you're right. I just… I just wanted to try-I wanted some indication. But I don't think it'll ever come and if I could just let go of this. If I could just move on…" Quickly she raised a hand and May watched in obvious surprise as Misty wiped at her eyes. "But I _can't_. I don't know what to do."

May watched Misty try quickly to wipe at the other eye. When it became apparent that she was fighting a loosing battle, May walked around the rack and took Misty by the arms. Looking around the room May dragged her to a fitting room away from prying ears while Misty fought to control her tears and shut the curtain behind them.

Misty's voice hitched on a sob as they sat in the room. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine." May was well aware that Misty didn't like crying and someone else seeing her cry was on a list of things she usually tried to avoid (unlike her who cried at many things and recognized it as something she needed to do to release tension).

Another choked sob came from Misty as she furiously wiped at her eyes. "I don't know why I'm crying. It's not like it's a big deal. It's-It's so stupid."

May realized then, the similarity between her and Misty. She thought of herself, sitting beside Drew as a child and remembered Drew's words from only a few days before.

"_You're always like this._ _You apologize even when you did nothing wrong. …you'll just keep exhausting yourself because you put yourself last every, single, time."_

"It's not stupid." When Misty shook her head she went on, "Misty, you're in _love_. And-And it kind of sounds like you've been in love for a long time." The hitched sound that reached her ears gave May indication that she was right. "And you gave up…" Misty stiffened. May was aware that it was because of her words but still the thought filled her with sadness. "You gave up on him loving you back but you still love him. You're still his friend. You still support him, even though he doesn't love you back. You're not stupid. You're strong."

Misty chocked on another sob and gave in completely to the tears. May quickly sat beside her and hugged her, regardless of the fact that Misty was pulling on herself rather than responding.

"It's not impossible. It could still happen. You said it. You've grown up. And come on, you were right. Doing this was ridiculous." Misty chocked on a laugh. "Ash isn't like that Misty. We're shopping and he's going to leave us to it, but I bet if you were on a date and you were dressed up then you would get a compliment, and he would mean it, because we both know that he's like that. He doesn't lie." May shook his head. "It's both a gift and a curse."

Misty's laugh was tempered with tears. The laugh quickly gave way. "I'm not asking him on a date. I don't-It would ruin everything."

May pursed her lips. "Okay, how about this. I set you up on a date, then you can't get blamed if it ends up that he really doesn't like you back. He doesn't even have to know that you like him."

"No!" Misty blushed and May watched in surprise. "That would be weird."

May stared in shock. "What do you mean? Are you saying that you want to be with him but you don't want to go on a date because it would be weird? Don't you realize that's the way towards being a couple?"

Misty shifted.

May sighed. "It's no wonder you're not together! Gosh, it's not Ash at all."

Misty glared at the floor. "Stubborn boy."

May rolled her eyes. "Fine. I won't do a thing…"

Misty blinked and looked up at her. "What is that tone?"

May stared. "What tone?"

Misty looked at her suspiciously. "You had a tone when you said that."

"There was no tone…"

"There it is again!"

"Look!" Misty backed up in shock as May came very close to her face and stated boldly. "You told me how you feel so I'm going to help you. I _want_ to help you. Isn't it worth the chance that he doesn't like you to get these feelings out?"

Misty looked away nervously. "Well-"

"Of course it is! I'll be very careful, I promise."

Misty looked back to her warily. "Well…" Taking in May's expression she sighed. "You _can't_ tell him what I said."

"Of course," May stated with a smile. She leaned back, then taking in Misty's current demeanor she winced. "Are we done shopping?"

Misty laughed. "I'm-I need a minute. If you want you can shop while I…get myself together?"

May smiled. "Sure." As she left the room she glanced back in and stated. "You get yourself together and I'll work on getting the two of you together in the meantime." May giggled at the blush and pulled the curtain shut.

May turned with a smile some feet away and came up short before Drew. Her eyes widened. "Oh!" Quickly she took him by the arm and dragged him away from the fitting room, whispering. "Did you hear?"

Drew looked pointedly to his sleeve which May let go of quickly. "Yeah," he answered boldly.

"Oh." She looked around. "Where's Ash?"

Drew swallowed.

May's eyes widened. "Did _he_ hear?"

Drew hesitated then sighed. "Yeah, he did."

"Oh no."

Drew stopped her as she turned back to the dressing room. She was surprised when Drew grabbed her arm. "May." She looked back at him and saw a hint of worry. "He didn't hear all of it."

May paused. "What did he hear?"

Drew sighed, pulling his hand back and placing it in his pocket. "We were looking for you and someone told us that you had gone to the corner and that "the skinny red-head was crying."" Drew rolled his eyes. "Misty's wrong. Ash was there. Instantly, before I could even get there." Drew paused. "Then he left."

May blinked. "Just like that?"

Drew nodded. "I don't know what he heard."

May frowned. "That's… That's weird."

Drew nodded. "It was obvious to me what you were talking about…"

May frowned. "You listened in?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, one of my…one of my friends looked upset over it so…" Drew shifted uncomfortably. "I wanted to know."

May sighed. "We need to find him."

"…I don't think we should."

"Why not?"

"I mean, I don't think that both of us should.

May blinked. "Just…Just you?"

Drew nodded. May recognized how much Drew had changed where his friends were concerned. Though still nervous she nodded. "Okay. Just, will you tell me whether or not he likes her?"

Drew stared at her for a moment then shook his head. "That's his business."

May frowned. "You never would have cared before."

"That's different. If Ash is going to tell me something in private then I'm not going to tell you. Observing is something we both can do without betraying trust."

May let out a breath of frustration. "Fine. Look, I'll come with you and if he needs to talk to someone alone, I'll leave. Deal?"

Drew tried not to smirk, but it was hard with her standing there frustrated. There was something about that expression that got him every time. Even May had noticed that he sometimes purposefully pushed it out of her. But now wasn't really the time.

Drew nodded and turned to leave. May raised her hand to ask him to wait, then realizing it was pointless she ran back to the dressing room to inform Misty she would be right back and raced to follow him. Mentally she winced. Misty had been right about Drew leaving upbruptly.

* * *

"Why don't we try-"

Drew raised a hand and pointed down the corridor.

May blinked. "Where?"

"Through the door."

May squinted and finally made out the form of man wearing the colors Ash had dressed in, sitting on a bench outside the long hallway. "Well that works."

* * *

Ash looked up when the two reached him and smiled a vague smile. "Hey May."

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Heh." Ash raised a hand and shifted the hat on his head. "Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

May frowned and sat. "Oh. Okay."

Drew noticed the slightly uncomfortable look Ash was giving May and spoke up. "May, I think Misty probably needs your help right about now, considering you have her wallet."

May realized that Drew was right (May had held onto both their money as Misty was changing), and stood warily, glancing back at Ash. "Okay, um. See you in a minute?"

"See you," Drew answered as Ash nodded. May scowled at Drew as he answered for Ash and made her way back into the store.

As she disappeared Drew turned back to Ash. "I heard them talking."

Ash shifted.

"What did you hear?"

Ash let go of the rim of his hat and sighed. "Nothing important."

Drew sat beside him and looked up to the blue sky. As May had mentioned earlier, it was still a beautiful, warm day. Drew could smell grass and flowers from somewhere nearby. As they sat he glanced off to watch a group of kids, one of which had fallen and was picked up by friend before catching up.

"Really?" Drew asked vaguely glancing away towards the children.

Ash nodded. "It's good."

"Then why did you leave?"

Ash sighed again. "Drew, you don't usually-why do you care?"

Drew smiled a bit. "This is what friends do."

Ash turned, finding Drew still staring to where the kids were running together. This was something Ash had been gently trying to convince Drew of for some time. For him to be sitting here, actively being a friend, was something Ash knew he should respond to if they wanted to stay friends. He sighed and looked to the sky. "It's Misty."

Drew smirked. "That much I gathered."

Ash glanced at him. "Do you want to know or do you want to make fun of me?"

Drew frowned still staring off. "Can't I do both?" Hearing the sigh Drew rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Keep going." Finally turning back to Ash he saw the skepticism. "Really. Go."

Ash looked to the ground. "It's a little… It might sound weird."

"You like her."

Ash looked back to Drew in surprise.

"Don't look so surprised. I've known for a long time."

Confusion covered Ash's face. "How long is a long time?"

Drew shrugged. "The last couple years at least."

Ash stared.

Drew almost laughed, realizing what the stare meant. He almost voiced it but realized that Ash would almost instantly shoot it down. Instead he waited for Ash to say it himself.

"How…How can you have known that when I only just realized…a while ago…"

Drew smirked. "Sounds like a part of you knew it before your head did."

Ash's brow came together. He wasn't sure how to feel about that sentence. Somehow it made him sound stupid. "I think I would know if I liked her."

Drew looked away. "It's not like that."

Ash blinked. "What do you mean?"

Drew shrugged. "Sometimes you can start to like someone then not remember exactly when it started." Ash remained silent. "Which means, to me, that you can have feelings for someone without knowing it."

Ash stared then slowly turned back to the ground. "Guess that's pointless now though," he muttered.

Drew frowned. "Why?"

Ash rubbed his palms on his pants. "If you overheard them I would think that would be obvious."

Drew's annoyance began to come back, but he tried to stifle it. Some still made it through when he spoke. "What _I_ overheard was Misty breaking down because of you."

Ash's eyes widened. He turned quickly to face Drew. "Because of me? What are you talking about?"

Drew stared. "She was talking about you," he said plainly, as if explaining to a child.

"But…But May said she was in love. And then that she was a friend…" Ash paused.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "And you're assuming that friend is someone else?"

Ash opened his mouth to respond then shut it. After a moment he opened again. "Well…I'm supposed to assume it's me? I mean…why me?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "When you're in love it doesn't matter."

Ash looked at him. "But really, why would it be me? What are the chances-"

"It has hardly anything to do with chances. You two are around each other twenty-four seven."

Ash blinked and swallowed. "You really . . ." He looked at the ground. "You think it's me."

Drew stated bluntly, "They said your name."

Ash instantly blushed, eyes focused intently on the ground, even more embarrassed that he could feel himself blushing.

Drew smirked. "Obviously you've liked her longer then the last little while for this kind of a reaction."

"Quiet..."

Drew laughed. Sitting back fully against the bench he stated, "So ask her out."

Ash was silent for a moment, still staring at the ground. "I can't do that…"

Drew looked to him in confusion. "Why not?"

Ash shrugged. Then seeming to realize something else he backtracked and muttered. "Why do you think she was crying?"

"From what I gathered it was because she liked you. And something to do with noticing her dress."

Ash stared in confusion. "What dress?"

"I don't know. The one in the shop I guess?"

Drew and Ash stared at each other for a moment.

"Seriously?" Ash asked.

Drew laughed. "Such is the mind of a woman."

Ash laughed then shook his head. "So…think I should?"

"What do you think?"

Ash paused. "I think…I wouldn't mind trying. But we've known each other for such a long time. It might be weird."

"Weird is worth it."

Ash sighed. "What if you misunderstood? What if I ask her and she likes someone else and it just complicates everything? I don't think…" Ash's expression took on a severely troubled expression. "I don't want to loose her as a friend. Having her not know is better than loosing her."

Drew watched Ash carefully. "Trust me. I didn't misunderstand."

* * *

"Misty, are you okay?" May asked gently.

Misty looked back at her. "Oh. Um…I'm okay."

"Okay." May sighed.

"What's wrong?" Misty asked, seeing her expression.

May wondered what she should do. Should she tell Misty or keep her mouth shut? What would she want Misty to do if the situation were switched?

"Ash…Ash overheard us."

May instantly felt the tenseness from the beside her. Turning to look she found Misty with wide worried eyes. "He…He did?"

May nodded nervously. "Not all of it, but part of it. Drew told me."

Misty stared. She could feel her bottom lip shaking. "What did he hear?"

May shrugged. "I don't know. Somewhere near the beginning, I'm assuming."

Misty frowned. "The beginning?"

"Drew said…Drew said he left."

Misty swallowed. "O-Oh."

May frowned. "Are you alright?"

Misty nodded quickly. "I just feel a little light." She turned and sat on a nearby stool, raising a hand to her forehead. "He knows," she whispered. "And he left."

May frowned. "We don't know what he heard."

Misty shook her head, a look of acceptance on her face. "We barely talked. How can you misunderstand that? This is it. He left." She dropped both hands to her lap. "I've got to stop living in this fairy tale. I can't do this forever."

May watched on worriedly. "But we don't know what it means. He could still like you."

"He doesn't like me."

May's eyes widened at the words.

Misty looked up with a pained smile. "He doesn't. I'm not being negative. For once I'm being honest with myself. I've got to stop waiting for something that's never going to happen. It's not fair to me, and it's not fair to him. I should be able to feel happy for him if he likes someone and instead all I feel is this…jealousy. All the time. And it's so pointless."

May watched in a nervous sort of horror as Misty stood. "I've got to let him go."

May pursed her lips. "Okay," she whispered.

She was a woman, and she knew when enough was enough.


	11. Good

**A/N I wanted to go over this more but unfortunately I cut one of my fingers and I can only type with one hand right now. I figured you all would appreciate getting this chapter in the mean time rather than waiting for it to heal. :P I'm alright but it was a deep cut and so I probably won't be finishing this story by the end of the month. If it takes me a while to respond to your review, I will still do so. **

**And now I'm done considering this typing is taking _forever_. :P**

**So much drama in this chapter. Enjoy!**

* * *

Ash sighed. Some feet away he could hear Misty's feet rubbing against each other. Nervously he turned to her and opened his mouth to speak.

"May, can we go upstairs?"

May looked up to Misty, homework on the ground around her. She shrugged. "I guess." Gathering her books May stood and followed Misty as she made her way up the stairs.

Ash watched them go with a hurt expression. It was made all the more awkward by the fact that this was _his_ house. They were leaving him in his house.

It had been like this for the last couple of days. Misty was avoiding him, He was sure of it. The part he couldn't understand was why.

That part hurt even more.

* * *

May placed her books on the floor and turned to Misty. They were in the guest bedroom and Misty sat on the bed, pulling her legs up to her chest. May didn't have to ask to understand why they were upstairs. The look on Misty's face said everything. A blank stare as she thought, looking accepting, but May knew the pain she must be going through.

May sighed and sat on the floor, opening a book. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to help Misty, to suggest that she talk to him or work it out. But she could understand where Misty was coming from. She knew that Misty wouldn't loose Ash, he was too good a friend for that, but it might change their relationship.

But really . . . could their relationship get any more awkward?

May was a romantic at heart, and she was aware of it. This kind of space was driving her crazy. Her emotions were going wild, telling her to push the two of them together and end this pointless game Ash and Misty had no idea how to finish themselves.

But on the small chance that she did ruin everything, was it worth that risk? Would it be the right thing to do as a friend?

May sighed. "Misty…" she started. She looked up and was given the same expression she had seen for the last few days: the blank stare, the sad acceptance. How could she help when Misty had given up? May swallowed. "Never mind."

Misty's lack of response was more than enough to how she was feeling.

Instead of working on her homework, May tapped her pencil against the book thoughtfully. Had Misty really given up? She wouldn't feel this sad if she was ready to give Ash up, so instead she was forcing herself to. Which meant that if Ash did make a move, unless it was forceful and obvious, she would shoot it down because she really believed that Ash didn't like her-and of course-she didn't want her heart to break any more.

May frowned. Ash could be blunt, but if he did like Misty (which she thought he probably did), then even he would be nervous-especially considering the fact that he and Misty were friends. _If_ he got up the courage to try he would probably ask gently because of his own feelings. And that wouldn't work. Not now.

Misty wouldn't believe him.

May dropped the pencil and sat back on her knees. So what did she do?

Blinking May turned, feeling the eyes on her, and found Misty still staring at her. "Alright?" Misty asked.

May nodded, forcing a smile. "I'm going to go downstairs. Can I get you anything?"

Misty swallowed. "No. I'm…I'm okay."

May started to frown the forced the expression away with a soft smile. "Kay. I'll be right back."

Misty watched her go with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn't want May to feel bad because of her. No one should feel bad because of her. She sighed, dropping her feet to the floor. _'Okay Misty, time to move,' _shetold herself, but her feet stayed numb on the carpet. Staring at them she felt emotion start to build. She was depressed, as if caught in a dream. Moving didn't seem to matter, and she was so caught in her own emotions that her extremities felt numb, not in a physical way but rather in an emotional sense.

Why should she move? Why should she pretend to be happy?

What was the point when she didn't have him?

What a dramatic thought, she told herself. Like life didn't move on without him. Like she couldn't be happy without him. He was still there. He was . . . He was still her friend.

Misty's eyes widened when she saw the droplet on her hand, resting on her knee. She blinked and more tears fell, her mouth opened in awe. She hadn't known she was crying. Realizing it didn't help, but made it worse. Here she was, crying, and she hadn't even noticed.

This was so much harder than she had expected it to be, and she had expected it to be _so_ hard.

Misty felt the tears building again, a knot in her throat. She tried to stop but she couldn't. Quickly she raised her hands and wiped the tears away. May had dealt with her enough. She didn't need Misty breaking down on her again. A sob caught in her throat at the thought. But who else? She was older. May was supposed to look up to her. She was supposed to be the strong one. If . . . Ash-If she had somebody else to talk to she wouldn't have to burden May like she was. And how long could May put up with it?"

Misty choked and gave into some of the tears, ruining her efforts at wiping them away.

Could she ever look at Ash without seeing the boy she had loved? Would she always love him? Would this always hurt? How could she let go of him when she was always around him?

Misty glanced to the door, the tears calming. Quickly she wiped at her eyes again and stood. Crossing the room and peeking out the door she found May still gone and crossed to the bathroom.

She shut the door quietly behind her and turned on the fan just for the noise. When she reached the sink she realized her hair was falling out around her face. Quickly she pulled out her hair band and combed through the hair around her face. Her hands paused and for a moment she just took in her appearance with her hair down. It had grown so much, almost past the tops of her shoulders. The ponytail was longer than it had once been. Though she had abandoned the side ponytail as she grew older she still couldn't stand it when her hair got in her face. Numbly Misty combed through a few stands and brought them in front of her eyes, staring at them.

Why orange? Of all the colors in the world why that one? Why was it that her sisters had such beautiful hair colors and she was left with orange? And why was it that her sisters were so beautiful, so womanly, and when she put on a dress she still felt like a child playing dress-up?

That was when the self-depravation started.

She knew on some level that where her thoughts were going was a forbidden zone, an area for dramatic teenagers and emotional women. She knew her thoughts would sound cliché and dramatic, but that didn't stop them. That didn't stop her eyes from straying to the orange hair to tear-logged eyes to the less than average chest. Those things didn't matter-she knew that, she had convinced herself of that. And still when people called her beautiful she found herself surprised and blushing. Pleased yet less than believing. Maybe to them she was beautiful, but was she really?

And what was she to the people she actually wanted to find her beautiful?

Of course he didn't like her.

She had buried these feelings, made sure not to bring up the overly used words and drama. She had told herself that it didn't matter and accepted it the same way she had accepted all of the other things she would never have. She hadn't thought that it hurt anymore.

Apparently part of her still wanted those things.

Without her permission the tears started again, and she was glad that she had already turned on the fan because she could hear her own quiet sobs. She could only hope that nobody else would

Quickly she pulled her hair back and wrapped it again in a rubber band, though more messy than usual. She turned on the water with no care to the temperature and splashed her face with warm water. More emotion clogged her throat and she quickly took a deep breath, splashing her face with more water which took with it new tears. Standing she took a deep breath and grabbed one of Delia's soft white hand towels and wiped her face.

For a moment she again looked at her reflection. The tears were gone but she still showed all of the signs of crying: red eyes and a flushed complexion. Misty sighed and dropped the towel.

Nothing helped at all.

* * *

"So, anything new?"

Drew shook his head. "Not really. But, um… this last week was alright actually."

Victor nodded, clicking his pen closed. "That's great. Why do you think you're doing so well?"

Drew shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't use to have to worry about feeling upset, about remembering things. Nothing has been bothering me. I kind of feel the way I did before."

Victor paused. "Tell me if you don't want to answer, but do you think that maybe the reason you didn't think about it before was because you were blocking it?"

Drew shifted. "Um…I don't know." He looked to the ceiling and sighed, trying to work out his thoughts. Thinking about the subject at all made him feel restless and agitated. Without thinking he raised a hand and rubbed at an arm. "I just…" he sighed again. "I don't-I don't know. _Maybe_."

Victor nodded. Softly he set the pad aside. Drew had only seen Victor take it out two times and had yet to see Victor actually take any notes. There was something he couldn't explain when Victor set the pad aside, like he was throwing away the doctor mentality. It was comforting, and Drew again felt like he was sitting across from a friend rather than a stranger with a degree. Victor placed a hand on his thigh and drummed his fingers. "How are your friends?"

Drew paused, eyes flitting to the ceiling. "Well… alright. They're having some difficulty."

"May?"

Drew shook his head. "Ash and Misty. Just a couple spat. That sort of thing."

Victor blinked. "I wasn't aware they were a couple."

Drew shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. "Well…they're not. Not really. That's what it's about."

Victor blinked again, then his mouth opened. "Awe. A pre-couple spat."

Drew smirked. "Yes, that."

"Do they have an understanding of their feelings?"

"Um, well, I don't really know. It's complicated at the moment."

Victor sighed, looking off with humor. "That's how it goes generally. The tension rises till one of them breaks."

Drew blinked. "Breaks?"

Victor nodded. "Snaps. States how they feel. Turns and runs away. It's usually the moment that brings them together, but occasionally I've seen people break apart over it."

Drew frowned.

Victor, realizing Drew's concern, continued. "It's rare. I'm not expecting it of your friends." He gave Drew a half smile. "Sorry about that. I was being Doctor Victor again."

"Doctor Vanrae."

"Yes, that."

Drew smiled. He couldn't explain why it felt good to talk like this. It just did. He almost didn't feel like he was in a session any more.

"And your other friend? May, right?"

Drew nodded. "Um… Well, she's good. She's May. Just…" Drew shrugged. "Go-lucky May. She's always good."

"Always happy?"

Drew nodded.

Victor smiled and nodded. "Well, she did seem that way when I met her. Very cheerful, that girl."

"Heh…Yeah, that's May."

Victor paused, staring off for a moment then stated. "Well, that's all I can think of. It's good to hear that you're doing so well. Not to be Doctor Vanrae again but while hearing that is nice, I do think you still have some things that you may need to talk about. If anything comes up, anything at all, give me a call and we'll schedule a session."

Drew bit the inside of his lip and nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

Drew lay alone that night, just staring at the ceiling. He couldn't get Victor's words out of his head.

'_I do think you still have some things that you may need to talk about.'_

Drew sighed. He _was_ going to have to think about those things, wasn't he? He rolled over and looked distantly at the wall closet, frowning.

His parents had owned a different house till he was ten, and he was thankful for that. This house still had wall closets, but at least they weren't connected to too many memories. At the point that he had met May things began to settle considerably, and by the time they moved there was still abuse but Drew had become so used to it that he hardly recognized it for what it was. His room was still in the house, just down the hall. But Drew didn't sleep there. He hadn't even opened the door since he had moved in. Instead he slept in his parents' bedroom (why it was more comforting he had no idea-he had simply gone strait to that room instead of his and settled in the bed).

It had only been a few months since his parent's death and the house was still full of their belongings. Almost instantly he had cleaned everything out, but he still hadn't been able to bring himself to go through the closets. It wasn't really a conscious choice. He simply didn't go near them, like they didn't exist. But now, facing his memories and staring at the closet, he began to bring things together.

He pulled in a deep breath, his stomach beginning to tie in knots. His palms were already sweating, but he hardly noticed. For several more long moments Drew stared at the closet door, then he glanced at the door to the bedroom, cracked open, and glanced to the bathroom, door cracked as well, light filling in from the opening.

Swallowing, Drew threw back the covers and told himself not to think about it. It was just a closet, and he could face it. Next time he would have something to tell Victor about. He could say that he had faced it and it didn't bother him anymore. He knew it wouldn't.

It was just a closet.

Drew stood and tucked the covers back in behind him then turned and faced the closet. The light from the bathroom had his attention and somehow warred with what was before him. He ignored the way his stomach began to feel nauseous as he stared at the door then settled as he glanced at the light from the bathroom. He had expected himself to walk strait to the closet, open the door, then go back to bed. Instead he found himself still standing beside the bed, staring blankly at a door that was growing larger and larger.

His eye twitched and Drew raised a hand to rub at it subconsciously before dropping the arm. Swallowing, Drew looked back to the light of the bathroom and let out a breath he hadn't known he had been holding.

Taking a breath Drew turned back to the bed and slipped under the covers once more. He would face the closet in the morning.

It was late after all.

* * *

Misty stopped, staring awkwardly as she realized that Ash was in the room. It was late and she and May had ended up staying the night (at Delia's insistence when she arrived home and saw the time). She had expected everyone to be in bed, but no, there sat Ash-on the couch and wide awake.

Ash sat up straighter and turned and Misty felt her heart flutter, her feet itching to turn and run but realizing how obvious that would be.

Ash blinked and awareness lit his gaze. "Misty."

Misty swallowed. Her immediate response was to say that yes, she was indeed Misty and they both knew that. But staring at Ash, her words failed her. When it became too much and a blush started to stain her cheeks she ducked. "I um…" She swallowed again, then shook her head and forced herself to move. Quickly she finished scaling the stairs and headed for the kitchen. "I was thirsty," she stated.

Ash watched her calmly. From his place in the living room he heard Misty turn on the water for a moment. There was a few seconds longer than one would expect for merely a drink of water, then Misty reappeared and started back towards the stairs. "Night," she stated quickly.

Ash watched her numbly. When she reached the bottom stare his mind acted for him and he stood quickly, pushing her name from his throat desperately. "Misty-" The action had come before he could think of what to say next. He felt his throat close, his mind empty for something to follow the words.

Misty paused on the bottom stare. The room felt still and silent and the tension filled her with something that made her insides squirm. Misty rubbed her fingers against her palms then fisted the fingers when she felt the moisture there. "I…I have to get to sleep."

Ash's mouth opened. He tried to form words. Tried to think of what to say and how to relay what he was feeling. But he was so confused about what she was doing and so unsure of what was safe to say. He knew he liked her, but could he say anything? What was causing her to want to avoid him? What if telling her sent her running, or left them even more awkward?

What if Drew had been wrong? Or what if he was right and Misty had changed her mind?

Ash swallowed.

Misty glanced back to him and found him still silent. There was a light in his eyes, a strange emotion that Misty could not name. It was so deep that it filled her with instant fear. Not a common fear, but a fear to hope. It was a longing, the emotion in his eyes, but she couldn't think like that. She couldn't think it was what it looked like…

…that he was longing for her.

She quickly turned away, her heart pounding.

She couldn't hope that. She couldn't. She-

"Misty-"

"G-Goodnight." Misty ducked and rushed up the stairs.

Ash watched her go.

This time he didn't stop her.

* * *

Drew was having a staring contest with the closet.

Of course he didn't think of it that way, but that was what it was. The door stared back without care, simply by existing. It was so ridiculous, but Drew marked it off to still being half asleep. It was all that he had done since he had awoken. He wasn't sure how long it had been.

As he sat, thoughts slowly made their way in and out of his head. Short memories. Little moments between him and his parents. Almost all revolved around the closet. Whether it was a part of the moment or not it was always in the back of his mind.

Whether he wanted to believe it or not he was terrified of a closet.

Or had been.

Had been, if he could just get up and face the closet.

And he was going to prove it. He was going to walk straight up to it, open the door and calmly move on with his morning routine. He didn't care about a closet. It wouldn't bother him.

It wouldn't.

Drew swallowed. His legs felt numb and he still didn't move. Did he really have to do this? It was such a small thing that it was obvious that it shouldn't bother him. He didn't need to open it. How ridiculous to think of this small thing as a courageous action, as a show of some form of strength. Opening a closet proved nothing.

A moment later he recognized the thoughts for what they were and swallowed. It didn't bother him.

So why couldn't he do it?

Shuddering Drew took a deep breath and stood, making his way slowly but steadily across the room. When he arrived before it he only stared, his eyes travelling over the smooth wood. What a thick door, he thought. Pure oak. Not surprising considering how rich his parents had been. They could afford to fill their house with high quality. And his mother would go for a house with thick oak doors. Doors that no hands could open no matter how strong they were.

Drew shook his head. Now _that_ was ridiculous. As if she would choose a house based on the doors. It was a rich, ornate house (though small), so of course everything would be exceptional.

Drew sighed. His stomach was shifting, but he ignored it. His entire body felt suddenly sick.

Again Drew shook it off. He had no need to be afraid of a door!

And he could do this himself.

Filled with frustration, Drew reached forward and flung open the door. For a moment it was fine.

Then he couldn't breathe.

The closet sat before him, a simple cut-out from the wall, to the rest of the world innocent. He felt his heart begin to flutter and his every muscle stiffening. His eyes widened. He couldn't look away. His throat closed. Staring at the dark emptiness of the closet in the shadows of the early morning, his mind blanked. He had no words and no thoughts for what lay before him, only overwhelming terror. He felt his body shake, hands especially, fingers open but frozen at his sides. Time to step back, he realized.

But he couldn't.

Why had he let himself try this? How had he been so stupid? Of course it mattered! The door was right beside him. If someone came up behind him they could push him in and he would be locked inside forever. No one would look for him. No one would care. The thick door would keep him trapped no matter how hard he pushed. No one would hear him. No one could before, not through this thick of a door.

All at once thoughts left him completely. His mind once again blanked but the shaking ceased. He wasn't afraid anymore, but he wasn't much else.

For a while, it was enough. Drew felt nothing. No fear, no pain, no memories. Blank emotion, and it was wonderful.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, and then in one brilliant flash the door was before him again and he was awake and emotion came flooding back.

Drew dropped to his knees, hands coming over his eyes. "No," he whispered. "N-No… It-It doesn't… Doesn't matter. Nothing-Nothing matters. I'm okay…I'm okay…

"I-I'm good… I'm good."

Time faded. His age, who he was now, nothing mattered. Slipping through the cracks of his mind came a thought: he knew how to handle this. He had done it before.

Drew took a shaky breath. He could handle this.

"O-One…T-Two….Three…"

* * *

"Drew?"

May frowned, peeking around the door. The house was dark, confusing her. Drew was an early riser and it was nearing noon. He had to have been up for a few hours at the very least.

Slipping in, she shut the door behind her. "Drew?" She called again.

It wasn't as if she kept tabs on him but, well… maybe she did. It wasn't something she did out of motherly instinct, just as a friend. She and Drew communicated often, and it wasn't common that she didn't know where to find him. In those rare moments she could trace him to Victor's office or Ash's house. But today she couldn't find him; she couldn't contact him. In the end she had decided that he must be at his house, but the lights were out. Where was he?

May had felt a similar feeling to when they were children. Slightly annoyed and mostly worried. Why hadn't he told her where he was? As she looked around the house another familiar feeling came, exemplified by familiar words.

'Something's wrong.'

A feeling of déjà vu filled her as May headed straight for the stairs and began to scale them. Reaching the top, she found the lights off, no indication from any other room that someone was there. She had been to Drew's house enough to know that no light ever made it under the doors. Strange, but that was how it was.

Turning she made herself down the hall towards Drew's room, or rather his parents'. She didn't know why he didn't sleep in his own room, but his parents' room was nicer and now that they were gone it wasn't that strange of an action to take.

May felt the feeling overwhelm her. "Drew?" She asked. When no voice answered her May pushed the door open, too worried to wait.

What she saw stopped her cold.

Drew knelt on the floor. From the doorway she could see that he was muttering to himself, but what she couldn't make out.

May numbed, staring with wide eyes. She couldn't help the nervous feeling that ran through her, as if she were witnessing something horrible. She swallowed and quickly entered. In a moment she had knelt beside him and placed her hand on one of his raised ones. "Drew!"

Drew remained still, continuing his muttered words.

May felt her stomach fill with dread.

"Drew, answer me."

Drew shook but made no move to respond. "C'mon Drew," May said desperately, tears beginning to fill her eyes. Fear filled her veins as she watched him. "Stop."

Drew pulled minutely from her touch but made no indication that he had heard her. May pulled her hand back and, realizing that he was still muttering, lowered her head to listen to his whispered words. May's eyes narrowed. Was he counting?

May pulled back and watched fearfully. Now that she knew what he was saying, the whispered words seemed to echo around the room and were far more unnerving than she had expected them to be. "_Drew_."

This time when she touched him there was a reaction. Drew pulled back violently, hands moving up to his hairline and digging into his scalp. He shook his head repeatedly and changed his tune, beginning to mutter desperately under his breath. "No, no, no,no, no..."

May swallowed and pulled back.

May looked around the room as if she would find the culprit. She couldn't stand to look away from him for a long, but after a moment she realized that only two things were out of place: the open closet door before him, and the messy bed behind him. Drew, for reasons May couldn't name, was obsessive about cleaning behind himself. Everything he touched or came into contact with was immaculate after he left it. He even went as far as to re-position pillows after he sat on Ash's couch. Delia always appreciated it, but for the bed to still be messy hours after Drew had to have left it, his body prone and frightened, this must have happened before he could make his bed.

A horrific thought occurred to her. May looked back to him.

Had he been like this all morning?

May swallowed. She moved fully in front of him, between him and the closet, and raised both of her hands to grab his wrists. Drew pulled into himself minutely but May held on, ignoring the part inside of her that panicked as she saw him hold tighter and dig deeper into his own skin.

Calming her raging thoughts she whispered, "Drew?"

Drew's lips trembled, barely visible between his arms.

"Drew? It's me. It's okay."

May felt Drew visibly still beneath her hands. The muttering slowed. As she began to speak again, she saw him swallow.

"You're okay. I promise."

Not knowing what else to say, May continued. "It's all over, now."

The words seemed to connect with something deep inside him. Drew's fingers lessened their grip, he pulled in a deep, shaky breath, as if he had been deprived of it for a long time.

May watched the change raptly. Slowly Drew lowered his arms till his fingers were just below his eyes and centimeters from his face. His eyes opened, staring blankly to the floor.

Hands still raised, Drew lifted his gaze.

May felt her breathe leave her. It was the eyes of a child that met hers, vulnerable and so very _not_ Drew. Glazed and distant. It was as if he was looking right at her but seeing something different.

And then a whispered word came. A word so unexpected she felt herself freeze.

"Mu-Mum?" He muttered.

May stilled, her eyes widening. The word resounded through her head and brought answers but left evil questions. She couldn't even begin to respond or know what action to take. Drew continued to stare, looking at her but not_ at her_. May wanted to help but she couldn't even breathe over the sudden pain in her chest. Behind her she felt the overwhelming presence of something wrong as it all came together.

The closet.

This was about his mother. This was all about her. Suddenly she realized how very little she knew. How was it that Drew, strong Drew, could completely loose himself this way? What had his mother done to him? Or was this the repercussions of something else? Yet another horror no one but him knew of? Had he ever gone through this before, alone in his house?

How bad was it? How bad had it been?

Certainly worse than he had made it out to be when he talked to her. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't he told anyone before now? The thought of him going through so much alone was overwhelmingly painful. May didn't know what to do, how to speak past the dread filling her.

This was so unfair. How often did this happen? Why hadn't he _told_ her? She remembered that Drew didn't care to speak of the closet, for what often hid inside it, but she never remembered anything this violent. Had it always been this way?

May choked on emotion as she looked at him, his trusting eyes looking to someone that wasn't her-someone he must see through her. His mother perhaps? A child's trust for a mother who would torture him and take advantage of that sweet trust? The emotion rose and fear came with it. What had he gone through?

What should she do?

The trusting eyes stayed on her. May couldn't stay silent. Forcing her feelings away, she pushed out the first words that came. "It's okay now," she whispered.

Already near breaking, Drew's eyes lined with tears so minute that only someone who knew him would notice. A breath left him in a rush and he dropped his hands, falling forward to rest his forehead on her shoulder.

May looked down to him with wide eyes. Whatever had just happened was unlike anything she had ever experienced. She felt him against her but couldn't move or reciprocate, her mind a mess of confusion and emotion. A moment ago he had sat counting on the carpet and now he leaned fully against her.

He had called her "mum."

Emotion filled her. He had broken out of whatever it was. He was okay. He was responding. She reassured herself that it would be fine soon. They would talk to Victor. They would work this out. The relief tempered with an undercurrent of fear hit her hard and her eyes filled with tears. Abandoning other thoughts, May raised her arms back around him, and whispered the only words that had worked before, "It's all over now."

Drew trembled. "I'll be good," he whispered distantly.

May shuddered with the words. "Y-You're good," she agreed readily.

May could feel a dampness beginning on her shirt. Something she knew she would forever feel surprised about and he would never admit to.

Again she heard the whispered plea, like a mantra. "I'll be good…"

The words sent her stomach into a panicked fluttering and she hurried to respond, "No. You're _always_ good."

A shudder met her words, then a choked sound and May could no longer pretend that he wasn't crying.

Another shudder filled the room, more like a gasp. And then Drew whispered in a broken tone, as if he couldn't believe it, barely over a breath. "May."

May knew then that he was himself again, but he didn't speak, staying hidden in her clothes, tears coming that he couldn't stop.

"S-I'm sorry," he muttered.

The apology brought her from the near fear of what had just happened to the reality of Drew in her arms. No longer afraid she held him tighter. "It's okay," she whispered.

Drew shook his head but May was surprised that he stayed, though his body had stiffened so that he just barely leaned against her, unable to hold back completely. He swallowed. "I'm-I'm so sorry."

May could hear the self hatred slipping into his tone; it wasn't surprising considering the fact that Drew was so against showing weakness. It wasn't surprising.

But it still broke her heart.

"It's okay," she said again, more insistently. "You're alright. It's-It's all over now."

This time the words that had calmed him before made him stiffen. "Yeah," he whispered.

May, overwhelmed, afraid for him and confused, held back tears. "It's all over now," she repeated desperately.

Drew, suddenly still and silent, heard only one voice voice.

_"No more closet for you."_

* * *

**A/N I'm sorry to leave you all on such a tense note. I will write more as soon as I can!**

**PG17**


	12. I Love You

**A/N I am a bad, bad person. I didn't go over this AT ALL. Which means the grammar is going to be bad. :P**

**So my finger is finally healed enough to type and I've been aching to so badly that I sat down tonight and couldn't stop and well…here's the whole chapter. o.o**

**I think I'm just going to be writing what comes to me for the rest of this story. I don't have a lot of time to finish it if I want to write a Christmas story. ;) **

**Ash and Misty are not my strong points so I hope it's alright. I wanted to go over it more but I can't think of anything else to do with it. :P I personally don't like the ending as much as I probably should before posting it, but I'm out of patience with this one. oxo Sorry! There are some things in this chapter that I really love though, so take it as you will. **

**Hope you like it anyway!**

**And if you don't, then I promise to make up for it with the rest of this story. :)**

* * *

"What happened?"

May glanced at Drew then back to Victor, who watched them both carefully.

Drew hadn't said a word since they had entered the room.

It was May who had called. After Drew had stopped talking he had stopped…well, everything. She had tried all she could think of to get him to speak but was met with no response. A couple of hours of TV and tearful begging later, May had called Victor himself and he had called them both in the next day.

Drew still hadn't spoken in that time. And even now he sat, silently.

May didn't know what to do. Drew didn't seem like he was out of it, not like before when he had looked past her and called her 'mum' and cried on her shoulder. He had been much more open then, done things he would never have done otherwise. Now he did nothing. He seemed like his faculties were in order but he wouldn't respond. She had hoped that her tears would rouse something in him, though they hadn't been intentional, but nothing broke the barrier. She had never seen him like he was now.

Victor looked between Drew's empty eyes and May's barely restrained tearful ones and sighed under his breath, leaning forward to rest his hands on his knees in a more relaxed position. "Drew…" he started.

Drew didn't give any indication of hearing him. May watched with worry and hope at once.

Another sigh. "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

May, from his side, couldn't see the slight twitch in his right eye, quickly followed with a twitch of his left hand. Victor did though; it had become a common enough action in their sessions. Victor wasn't sure that Drew even noticed the twitching, or the involuntary way he would rub at his eye to stop it. He would have to ask him about that later…

Victor glanced at May, watching with eager hope she couldn't hide and pulled back in his seat. "May," he started kindly.

May looked up at the tone of her name.

"Would you mind giving us a moment?" He continued in the same kind tone.

May swallowed. Her lips trembled as she looked back to Drew, but finding him still, eyes still staring off some ways away from her, her eyes filled with a sad acceptance. Turning back to him May nodded shakily and stood. When she reached the door she looked back, then nearly rushed to shut the door.

Victor watched the door a moment more then looked back to Drew. "You're being cruel to her."

The room remained silent for several minutes then in the undercurrent of a whisper Drew stated, "I don't want to talk about it."

Victor's eyes saddened. He sat up in his chair and paused. He couldn't help him if Drew didn't want help. These were moments when sometimes there was nothing he could do. Many people didn't understand that, especially family of patients. He wondered if May would come under the same category.

Victor sighed. "Well, alright then. What would you like to talk about?"

Drew continued to stare at the floor distantly, almost intently. It was clear that he was in his own thoughts, most likely thinking about whatever had brought him to his breakdown.

That _was_ what it was.

"Drew… Drew, why am I sitting here if we're not going to talk?"

Finally Drew's eyes rose to his, though the rest of his body remained still. Expression unchanging, he looked between Victor's eyes. "You're here because May called you," he stated in a whisper.

Victor let out a short breath then nodded. "That's fair," he whispered in response.

Now that Drew was looking at him he didn't look away, but it was apparent he was again thinking of something else.

"Alright," Victor stated, knowing Drew wasn't in the right mind. "We'll wait."

And they did.

Half an hour later Victor was brought from his own thoughts by a whisper.

"She found me."

Victor raised his head and listened intently. Drew's voice was no more than a whisper but his tone was normal.

"…Sitting on the floor."

Victor watched carefully, silently feeling the mood to see if it was the right time to speak, and decided to wait a bit longer.

Drew's eyes narrowed. "I've never done anything like that. I've never. . . I've never shut down over something so stupid." Then seeming to realize there was more to it, he added, "I've never shut down."

Victor nodded. "It's normal."

Drew's eyes again connected to his. "You don't even know what happened," he whispered accusingly.

"I'm betting you had a breakdown over something in your past." When Drew's mouth parted just barely, a hint of something hostile entering his eyes Victor quickly continued, though calmly. "And it _is_ normal. You're facing things now, which means that you're going to be coming head-to-heads with the things that scare you. This is a _very_ natural process. What you're doing is hard, and you _are_ _going to breakdown."_

Drew stilled, letting out a breath.

"Really, it's a natural part of the process. It always happens. And just the fact that it has proves we're making progress."

Drew almost laughed. This wasn't progress! He had never felt more terrified, since the time he had been a child. If this was progress, why? Why did he feel so pathetic? Why did it feel so hopeless?

"Why?" He whispered, he barely noticed the emotion entering his words and ignored the surprise on Victor's face. "Why is it like this? How is this helping me?"

Understanding came into Victor's features. "Because healing hurts. You've had terrible things happening to you and as you face them you're going to have to go through those emotions so that you can work them out and get answers. Those answers are going to lead to your healing. You can't heal without them."

Something in the response calmed some of the chaos in his head. Drew let out a breath, feeling just a bit lighter as he did so and nodded.

"Now… do you want to talk about it?"

Drew shook his head.

"Drew, please."

Drew looked at him then away. A knot grew in his throat. "It-It was my mother," he whispered. "I opened…her closet. And I…I shut down."

Victor nodded, swallowing though Drew missed it.

Drew shook his head and finally began to relax his posture. The emotions began to come out. "I-I was trying to face it…like you said." Drew swallowed. "It didn't work," he whispered, self-loathing filling his words.

"On the contrary."

Drew looked up, brows coming together, not bothering to hide his emotions. "What do you mean on the contrary? Nothing happened. I shut down. I didn't-I didn't make any progress at all."

"All of that was progress. The fact that you faced the closet. That was progress. This time the success wasn't in the result, but in the action."

Drew made an expression he was sure he had never made before, complete confusion coming over his features. Seeing the smile start to pull at Victor's mouth he quickly shook his head. "That doesn't make any sense," he stated stubbornly.

"What I mean," Victor continued patiently. "…is that you are brave. Brave enough to face your fears. If you keep doing that, you'll get past this."

Drew looked at Victor skeptically. "What if I don't?" He asked. The question was one that had bounced in his head since he had started the sessions, one he hadn't been able to face. But now it came out. What if he couldn't do this?"

"You will."

"But what if I don't?"

The room was silent for a moment then Victor stated, "Well, that's up to you. You have the ability to do it, just as everyone does. If you don't really want to face your fears, you won't. If you really want to get past this, you will. That's all there is to it. In the end, you are what you want to be."

"_You are what you want to be."_

Drew sneered. "Sure."

Victor raised an eyebrow.

"You really believe that?" Drew asked.

Victor pursed his lips. "Yes."

"What about with your patients?"

"You can't always choose everything, especially when you're sick, but you can fight. You can always fight. That's something I'll never question."

Drew admitted silently, he would have to agree to that.

* * *

"Misty!"

Misty jumped and spun, spatula coming up with her.

Ash winced as the food flung from it. Opening his eyes he looked down to find the brown mix on his shirt.

Misty blinked. "Oh! Sorry!" Then realizing he had snuck up on her she frowned. "But you surprised me!" She turned to grab a rag. "Why would you yell my name right behind me? Scare the crap out of me…"

"Heh."

Misty sighed. Without thinking she turned and paced the kitchen to Ash beginning to wash the batter from his shirt. It was several moments of concentrated cleaning before she realized what she was doing and stopped looking up to see Ash unsuccessfully hiding a deep blush, a surprised expression on his face.

Misty's face instantly lit in like. Quickly she spun and brought the back of her clean hand to one of her cheeks. It was hot.

"M-Misty?"

"Take it yourself!"

Ash winced as the rag hit him in the face, and pulled it down with a raised eyebrow. He almost spoke back but the completely flustered angry-yet-blushing expression he saw made him pause.

After a moment of him only staring the blush deepened. Misty pulled back. "What?"

Ash smiled. "It's like when we were kids."

Misty's eyes widened. She spun around and quickly made it to the sink, washing her hands and drying them on her apron before bringing them to her face as if to cool the heat there. "It-I'm not like that!"

Misty couldn't see the loving yet amused expression on his face. "Yes you are. You still respond the same way."

Misty paused, hands falling to her apron. Ash recognized the sudden difference in her. Unsure what to say he stayed quiet and the air became thick.

"You're right. Nothing's changed," Misty whispered a few moments later.

Ash's brow came together. "Nothing?"

Misty's hands crumpled in her apron. "You're still the same. I'm still the same. We still fight. It's just… You're right."

Misty shook her head and turned with a smile. Ash recognized right away the false cheer behind it. "Well, I have to finish. I'll talk to you soon. Now out!"

Ash's eyes narrowed. Misty blinked at the serious way he was taking her jest. "What?"

"You are avoiding me," he muttered, almost more to himself than her.

Suddenly the kitchen was thick with tension. Misty's lips trembled. It was as if Ash had laid out everything between them with one simple sentence. It wasn't his feelings, it wasn't something they could fight; he was simply stating a fact.

It was hard to fight against truth.

"I'm-I'm not avoiding you."

"Yes, you are."

Misty stiffened. She could smell the mix on the stove, which meant it was getting hot, but that didn't seem to matter right now. What did she say? She had no words for what she was doing. She hadn't thought of it as avoiding him. She was here, talking to him now. Maybe she had avoided certain situations, but not him. … Not completely.

But how was he supposed to take it? Of course to him she was avoiding him. But it wasn't as if she could correct him.

"_I was avoiding you because it hurt…because I love you."_

The very thought of those three words sent her stomach into panicked knots and her mind and heart into a longing ache.

"_I do love you," _her mind proclaimed. Suddenly she wanted to scream it. Her heart could barely hold it as he stood in front of her and practically begged her to tell him the truth. And there was only one truth.

"_I love you."_

The endless mantra had been the echo in her head almost from the moment she had met him. Impossible to quiet. Impossible to forget.

Impossible for it to happen.

All of her tears had dried. She was surprised that now she felt nothing but an empty sort of numbness. It didn't matter. It wouldn't happen. She had accepted it, and that was okay. She didn't matter, not like him. She would be happy for him, no matter what he did, no matter who he loved.

Misty forced a smile. "I… I'm sorry. Don't worry, it was nothing. Stupid-Stupid woman's issues."

The apology was the first indicator that this was wrong. Misty didn't know how much he had watched her. How well he knew her. She didn't apologize, hardly ever. Her apology now meant that she was faking. For some reason she wanted to lie. There weren't too many reasons that she would.

Unless Drew had heard correctly.

Unless she really did like him.

Ash swallowed. It was the apology that threw him off first, but now, as he stared at her, the second came. She was forcing that smile. It was completely fake. He knew it. But it looked real.

He knew she was lying. He knew the smile was fake. He had watched her without even realizing it.

Could Drew have been right? Could you love someone before you even realized it?

And was that what this was?

Love?

Misty opened her eyes from the pushed smile and blinked. He was staring at her in such a strange way. "Ash?"

The word pushed him to speak, but he was still thinking, still pulling together the realization with her in front of him…The realization that he might, just _might_, love her. Still lost in thoughts he opened shaky lips and whispered, "You're lying."

Misty froze. "Wh-What?"

Ash didn't respond to the question, only stared back calmly. As he stared Misty stiffened and began to break down under his intensity.

"I-I did not!"

Ash swallowed. "You did."

Exasperated Misty stated, "About what?"

Ash shrugged a bit and looked away. "About everything, I expect."

Misty let out a breath and turned back to the stove. "Really. Then what do you think is the _truth_?"

After several moments of silence Misty slowed the stirring. The silence was more severe than any response. Her body felt cold as she turned to face him. The way he looked at her said everything: calmly, nothing negative, as if he saw right through her.

Misty turned back to the stove and dropped the spoon, raising a hand to rub at her eyes. "I um…" She stopped and took a breath. "I need a break. Will you finish this for me? It's Delia's. She just-She just doesn't want it to burn…"

Misty gasped in shock at the feeling behind her. Logically it had to be Ash, but it couldn't be Ash. This wasn't an Ash like thing to do _at all_, and certainly not with her.

So what was pressed against her back?

Misty felt her knees tremble, her mind unable to equate what was happening to what she understood would never happen. "Ash….What-What are you doing?" Taking a breath she looked down and found both of his hands on the counter on either side of her.

"You're lying," came the whisper.

Misty shivered despite herself. She felt trapped, made even worse by the fact that enclosed spaces had _never_ been her thing.

"Ash-"

"Tell me the truth…."

Misty swallowed.

"_Please."_

The desperation in his voice was impossible to miss and impossible to ignore. Why? Her mind asked. Why the desperation? Was it possible… No! She had decided…

Misty raised her hands to her forehead, which was suddenly aching. This wasn't happening. She couldn't deal with this. What could she say? How could she lie? How could she tell the truth? What could she do?

"Ash please…Just-Just let me go."

Ash pulled back minutely behind her. "I need to hear it…. Whatever it is. Just tell me."

One hand went to the stove while the other hand swept up through her hair, passed a creased brow. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand it!" The feeling, being completely enclosed was getting to her. The feeling to get out and away was strong but warring with the part of her that wanted nothing more than to be held in his arms. She was getting dizzy.

Ash's hands curled on the counter. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Ash." The word was filled with her frustration. _'Just drop it,_' it begged.

Ash's teeth clenched. Push or leave it? No, he had pushed this far, and giving up wasn't a strong point of his. "Tell me _anything_."

Ash had to act fast as suddenly Misty bolted flinging his left arm from the counter before he could react and running from between him and the counter. She had barely made it past his arms before he had acted on instinct and grabbed both of hers, pulling her back to him-this time face-to-face.

Misty's eyes shut and stayed that way, hiding her eyes from him. "Stop it!"

"No!"

The simple phrase almost made her laugh a bitter laugh. She knew from his tone that the word had just come out, an automatic response.

"Why are you doing this?" Misty heard her voice break.

"Because! Because…" Ash stopped, his breathing normalizing. She had been avoiding him for days. And she would avoid him forever if he let her. He couldn't let her.

"Because I think you love me."

Misty's eyes snapped open. The everything around them froze, his words echoing. She felt sick, violently nauseous. He knew? Of course he knew! He had heard! But she had still hoped… No, he knew. He knew. So why was he forcing her to say it? What was the point in torturing her? In hurting her this deeply? How would he respond when she had said it? It wasn't fair! She had accepted it! She was letting him love who he wanted to! Why did he have to pull this from her now?

The sob that came shocked them both. Ash's hands loosened automatically on her arms and he stared in shock as he watched tears run to her eyes for one of the only times in the entire span of their friendship.

She loved him.

The realization was like a light to his soul. A thrilling and exhilarating feeling filled him, like he was flying though he knew he was still on the ground. It didn't make sense and it didn't have to. She was crying.

She loved him!

He had never felt so elated. And the fact that he was reacting this strongly hardly fazed him. The feeling spoke for itself. He knew now: He loved her too.

He swallowed, opened his mouth to speak, anything at all-and then Misty had pulled away, taking advantage of his lax hands on her arms, tears coming she couldn't stop. Another choke and she flushed in despair and embarrassment, and ran.

Misty scaled the stairs two and three at a time and threw herself in the guest bedroom, slamming the door behind her on accident before collapsing on the bed and giving into the tearful sobs.

She knew he could probably hear but that didn't stop her body from pushing them from her, more despair then she had ever felt came with them.

The forbidden mental state returned. He knew now, without a doubt and there was nothing she could do. She had held on for so long, put up with the unrequited emotions for _so long._ It wasn't fair that now that she decided to let go he did this to her. It had almost been over, and now it would never be over.

What did this mean for their friendship? It would never be the same. Would he even want her around when he was with other girls with the awkwardness that would cause? Why did he want to know so badly?

'_Because I think you love me.'_

Was it really that bad of a thing? What was so terrible about her that she couldn't love him?

Why?

"Misty?"

Misty stiffened. Quickly she raised her hands to hide her face.

The footsteps neared and Misty tried to pull into herself more, but it was hardly possible.

A couple of more seconds and the bed dipped beside her and a hand was on her back, comforting and still. She couldn't help the emotion that one hand caused. With one motion he had shown her everything she could never have. The support the action spoke of was overwhelming and she couldn't help but think that this would be the last and only time she would ever feel it.

The tears and sobs came again and she was helpless to stop them, but the hand stayed. The fact that the hand was so comforting just pushed more tears from her. She wanted this so badly, and every time the tears would begin to ebb she would feel the hand and they would start again.

As finally they stopped Ash moved the hand a bit to help her calm down. The hand stayed as she stopped. A few minutes passed and Misty sighed into her arms.

Awkwardly Misty let out a breath and ducked deeper, beginning to wipe at her eyes. Ash watched.

"Misty."

Misty continued to try unsuccessfully to dry her tears.

"Misty."

Misty jumped as Ash again grabbed her, but this time her wrists and much more softly. "It's okay."

A silent sob followed the words. It was _not_ okay. These were empty words.

"Look at me… _please_," he requested again, dropping her hands.

Misty almost rolled her eyes at the way 'please' seemed to be her undoing. She looked at him, feeling embarrassed and depressed, covered in tears and confused as to what he thought about it, about what he would do next.

Misty looked down instantly as she met his eyes. Of all the ways to be seen, crying was definitely the worst, and this was without a doubt the worst scenario she had ever imagined.

"I have to tell you something."

Misty raised a hand to wipe again at her eyes, trying not to cry any new tears, but was stopped when the hand again grabbed hers, pulling it to the side of her face as Ash lowered to meet her eyes. She looked down. "I know you love me. And that's okay."

Misty tugged lightly at the hand. "Ash, let-let me go."

Ash took a quick breath. "No," he stated softly.

Misty rolled her eyes. Stubborn boy…

"No. Be-Because." Ash swallowed then, still holding her hand off to the side he leaned down beside her. Time slowed. Feeling him so close sent her stomach fluttering, despite the tears. It was so intimate, having him so close. It hurt as much as it felt wonderful. The hot breath on her ear made her shiver and she flushed, still looking strait ahead.

She heard him take a breath, and then he leaned closer, right beside her ear.

Misty trembled, wondered if she should be afraid. A flame lit inside her, the one she had been content to let die. A small hope, so small it could hardly be felt. But it was there. The flame lit in her stomach and rose to her heart, begging her to believe it-that there was something more. Her heart broke with the hope. This moment, just this moment. She could have this.

Ash swallowed, then, letting out the breath he had taken, he whispered, "It's okay . . . because _I'm_ in love with you."

The tears she had been trying to hold fell, she stared ahead frozen, just taking in the words she thought she would never hear. _"I love you. I love you. I love you." _The mantra was back, echoing through her.

"Don't-Don't say it if…" Misty couldn't finish, trailing off as another tear fell. "Please…"

Ash pulled back, looked between the teary eyes and nodded. "I wouldn't."

Misty forgot her tears, forgot the way she was sitting on the bed, forgot anything other then the man before her and the deep hope blossoming through her.

"You …love me?"

The disbelief echoed between them. Ash couldn't help but smile at the wonder in her tone. He nodded. "Yeah."

It was so like him to have no idea how to respond, to say "yeah" instead of something romantic. But _this_ was who she wanted. Misty, eyes wide, felt every fear and every heartache pass away. Years of yearning for something so deeply… This time when the tears came Ash pulled her to him and she didn't resist. The cries were quiet now, relief and love coursing through her. She couldn't believe it.

He loved her.

Why? It didn't matter.

* * *

**A/N I know you might think Misty's whiny but that is a LOT of emotion for a girl okay? XP Unrequited love stinks. That's all there is to it, and it hurts so it's very understandable.**

**Keep in mind that it's two in the morning and I'm probably out of it and am missing half of what I'm typing…yeah. Review!**


	13. Progress

**A/N Sorry for the long break. ****This chapter marks the first of actual plot progression of the story, however minor. **The chapter is pretty short but the next chapter is completely written and will updated very soon!

**Also, this is pretty much the last of the development for Ash and Misty. After this I will focus on May and Drew (as a few people have requested ;). I did use it as a form of practice for Ash and Misty honestly, but I hope it added to the story as well.**

**I feel like this chapter was unfinished, but I have no idea what else to add. :P I'm sorry. Hope you like it anyway!**

* * *

'Progress' was such an annoying word. It implied that something wasn't as it should be. That it needed fixing.

Did he really want to deal with all of this for 'progress?'

"Drew?"

Drew looked up slowly. "Yes?"

Victor sighed. They weren't getting anywhere, and hadn't been since Drew's last breakdown. Victor had come to the correct conclusion that Drew was a person that didn't like loss of control. He didn't want to break down. He didn't want to look or feel, _or_ _be,_ weak. He didn't want to feel fear that to rest of the world looked insane or ridiculous. He didn't want to go through what he had in front of his mother's closet again, so he wasn't trying. Problem was, there weren't many other ways to get over fears born from memories.

Victor didn't know what to do. He had seen it before, but it was always frustrating, even if he did understand that it was natural. He wasn't sure why it frustrated him, and he made sure that his patients didn't know it, but it did. It had, at one point, been a source of guilt.

"Well, let's try something else," Victor announced. He placed his coffee beside him.

Drew remained quiet.

Victor realized that now was the time to speak to Drew about what he had been considering. Pulling his arms back he placed his hands on his knees and looked to Drew. "You realize that I can't help you if you won't let me?"

Drew's mouth pulled a bit.

"The question isn't so much if you want my help, as much as it is this: Do you want to get over these fears?" He paused a moment to let that sink in. Drew looked a bit uncomfortable, but he was used to that and pressed on. "I realize that this is my job and that's not comforting to you, but here are the facts: You can't do this alone. And you can't do it by not trying or facing these fears. If you don't want to do this, then that's fine, you can leave and I won't stop you."

Drew glanced away as Victor became more intense.

"But if you do leave, and don't think I'm trying to scare you-this is just how it is." Drew nodded slowly and Victor continued. "If you do leave, if you do decide _not_ to get help, this won't get better. People will tell you that time fixes your problems but it doesn't. The longer you leave this issue, the more it will fester. These feelings can _seriously_ damage your mind. You've already experienced what it's like to break down, to forget yourself and be pulled into a memory. Imagine that getting worse.

"Your mind naturally does things to protect you when you can't handle a situation. That's where most mental illnesses are born from: fear. If this fear continues, your mind will continue to give you a way out, and it might not be what you want for yourself."

Drew had stilled, feeling overwhelmed and afraid as well as uncomfortable by the words.

Watching Drew closer Victor stated, "I'm telling you that you could develop a mental disease."

Drew swallowed, his eyes on the floor. He didn't know what to think about that. If he was really in _that_ horrible of a state wouldn't somebody have noticed it? It was almost scary to take Victor's words seriously, but the way he said them, the words were portrayed so intently that they began to penetrate his mind.

"I've watched people go insane…. It's not easy. Not easy for them, not easy for the people around them, and _not_ easy to cure. This, hard as it is, will be much easier on you then if you wait for your mind to seriously shut down. These diseases affect everyone around you, and if it does get worse, coming to me won't be enough.

"So my question…" Victor leaned forward. "Is do you want to fix this or do you want to leave it be? Do you want my help?"

Drew _didn't_ want to do this. He didn't want to go through that again. He didn't want to shut down on the floor for half a day with his mother's voice ringing through his head.

But he didn't want the other things either.

A week ago he would have argued or disagreed silently. He wouldn't have considered himself susceptible to being…insane. He didn't feel crazy, and he wasn't hurting himself or anyone else. But the experience he had had days before, when he had forgotten himself, was fresh in his mind. He wasn't sure of everything he had said to May, but he was aware of how still she had been when he suddenly realized who he was leaning into. He had experience loosing perception of himself. He had sat in front of a closet and felt it grow before him while he froze from the fear of invisible enemies pushing him in. He had heard his mother's voice as clearly as May's. And according to her, he had sat there for hours.

He knew now. He had experienced insanity, if not a small taste, and it tasted like fear. Pure terror. A tight fist around your chest and devils peeking over your shoulder.

He _couldn't_ do that again, but Victor was right. He couldn't handle it getting worse. He really would go insane. What could be worse than what he had experienced? Could it get that much more terrible? He thought of all of the things Victor had said could come to him.

Did he want to find out?

Slowly Drew breathed out and nodded.

* * *

Drew left the office with his head spinning. What was he going to have to face? And for how long? What would it take to get over his past? Did Victor expect him to let go of everything?

How was that even possible?

A feeling of hopelessness began to rise in his chest. He knew there was hope, but the prospect of facing this when he didn't even know if he wanted to was both depressing and … terrifying. His mother loomed in the back of his head, as terrifying dead as she had been alive. She had lived on in him.

Just not the way that people usually expected a legend to live.

His hands shook. The terrible things she had done to him. The things she had convinced him that he was. He had taken those to heart, believed her every word till he was past eight and she began having fits. He still couldn't let those things go. Here he was, nearly a man, and he still felt like a small child. Why couldn't he let go of the things she had told him and done to him? Why couldn't he just forget it?

Did Victor really understand what he was going through? Did he know the impossibility of being able to move past this? Drew had buried it and moved on. He was functioning in the world. That should be enough. Why did he have to go through this to get over it completely?

He swallowed. No, Victor was right. Obviously it was getting to him again, or always had been there even when he hadn't noticed it. He couldn't forget the embarrassment of May's arrival, and his fear before that. He did need to fix this.

Now that he had started would May even like him if he didn't get through this? Why would somebody want to start a relationship with someone who was unwilling to face and work through problems like she had witnessed?

But she didn't understand.

Drew looked to the ground, his whole body stiffening.

What if he couldn't do this?

Would anybody understand? …Was that what an asylum was for?

"Drew?"

Drew jumped from his thoughts and looked up to see May some feet away beside the fountain. In the back of his mind he registered that she must have been sitting on the side waiting for him.

Drew swallowed.

There was no wind that day, not many cars in this part of town, no birds. Drew wished that there was some sound distract him rather than this complete silence between them, deeper and more awkward for him as he looked at the obvious concern on her face. He realized then, looking past her that the fountain was off. That explained why he had heard no sound from that either. It didn't help.

"Drew? Are…" May dropped the hand she had begun to raise and took a short breath. "Are you alright?"

Drew was still overwhelmed. Thoughts of asylums, his taste of insanity, and the hopelessness of her and him…

Drew shook his head and started down the tall steps before the door. As he hit the leveled cobbled stones that led outside of the gate May still hadn't moved. The concern suddenly became annoying, coupled with everything else. He didn't need or want her to worry about him. He could take care of himself. He wasn't crazy.

_May_ didn't need to be wondering these things about him.

"I'm fine."

May's bit her bottom lip.

"Really." Drew resisted sighing. "I'm . . ." And now he was tired. Sighing Drew brought a hand to his hair, not quite flipping but running beneath his bangs. It was close enough that not many would guess he was actually rubbing the stress from his brow. "I'm sorry."

May's eyes widened. Drew was apologizing. Again. Over the same thing.

Drew never apologized.

May couldn't help the feelings that came with the words. "Don't say that. Why should you be sorry?"

Drew dropped his hand, looking at her in surprise. "I would think that would be . . . obvious."

May shook her head. Softly she replied. "You don't need to apologize. It's what friends are for."

Drew was reminded, with the abruptness of a slap in the face, that this was May. May was the best friend he had ever had. May was the one who had taught him inadvertently what it meant to be a friend. She put more effort into it than anyone he had ever seen. This was May.

Drew looked down to his shoes, a silent but pained smile coming over his face.

This was May.

Suddenly everything changed. The hopelessness faded. May would put in the effort. She would be there, just like she had when they had barely known each other. May wouldn't judge him. May wouldn't care what he had to get over. She would support him through it. He didn't want her to worry, but she would be there anyway.

There was hope.

Drew thought back to Victor. He needed help with this. He would ask Ash, but then he would have to admit things that May already knew, and he didn't think he could do it again right now. "I think . . . I need help," he admitted. Even as he said it nervousness overcame him. What if this was a stupid idea? Showing May even more of his weaknesses?

May nodded, ready to help and the fear again faded.

Maybe it was stupid. He would just set that aside for a moment. He was good at doing what needed to be done. And this time he had May. It should have been embarrassing, but at that moment he could only feel relieved.

He wasn't alone.

* * *

"So… where are we then?"

Ash sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the couch. Misty sat beside him, not quite leaning into him but close enough to be.

Despite their confessions, both rather bold, it was still a bit awkward as they came down from the high of confession. They both understood the others emotions, now they just needed to make it real. They had been friends for such a long time, neither of them knowing the other liked them, that the old insecurities were remembered but not felt.

Still, it was enough to make it just a little bit awkward.

Ash had known this was coming. Misty would want it put plainly, as she had needed the plain confession. While that wasn't quite common, Ash was more than aware that they needed to make their relationship official. He hardly saw it as needed, considering they HAD just told each other they were in love and kissed. But woman seemed to be all about words. Still, this was worth it.

"Well, we're ah… we're in a relationship." He glanced at her nervously. "Right?"

Misty looked back calmly. "For real? This isn't something you're just going to fade out of?"

Ash sighed mentally. How much more of a confession did a woman need?

It was then that it hit him where she was coming from. How long had she loved him? It was clear suddenly that her feelings for him were very deep, so deep that she was still afraid he didn't feel for her quite as strongly as she did for him. Deep enough to cause her cry earlier. Deep enough for her to worry that Ash was just being Ash, and that while he loved her, eventually it would fade.

Ash put aside his frustration for the moment. A relationship would require him to do that…

…and he could do that for Misty.

Ash smiled. "Don't worry about it. I love you. That's all that matters."

Ash resisted smirking at the blush that travelled over her face. Quickly she glanced down, the smallest of smiles she couldn't stop joining the flush.

This time he did smirk. Maybe this would be better than he had expected. It wasn't as if they had to throw their friendship out the window and make a new relationship. They would just…build on what they had.

That was enough, wasn't it?

Suddenly words rose in his throat. He wanted to say something. Something corny. Something that would have made him blush in any other situation. He had thought it before to some extent, and now it rose in him till he couldn't contain it. He wanted her to hear it, out loud.

Swallowing the awkwardness at the words, Ash whispered, "You're beautiful when you smile."

Surprise lit Misty's features. Ash watched Misty's expression as she stared back warily, as if to check if he was sincere.

Only a moment of looking between his eyes and tears rose in hers. Quickly she ducked to Ash's chest, holding tight to him.

Ash understood part, but not all, of why she was reacting the way she was.

It was even more worth it.

* * *

Victor sighed and placed the two books back on his shelf. His last patient was fairly recent, and one that he was easing into the process by sharing his books with (the boy was quite the fanatic with reading). While it may have seemed unorthodox, he had learned that unorthodox was the way to go. Everyone had a different way of becoming comfortable with sharing their secrets.

The day had been tiring, but now he was done.

Finishing with the placement of the books he turned to the table behind him. Softly he pulled the box of photos, along with fabric below them across the table and opened the lid. He was moving on automatic-just a quick look through the photos before he retired for the day. He was just pulling over the last of the uncovered photos when the door across the room opened unexpectedly

Victor looked up, wondering who would be coming to him so late, and without knocking for that matter. He had no other sessions set up for the day.

He was surprised to see the pretty face of Victoria, one of his most sickly patients, peeking shyly around the door.

Her blond hair curled over her shoulder as she looked towards him, her hands twisted when she rose them to her chest nervously-though the faintest of hopes was in her gaze.

"Victoria," Victor stated in surprise. His hand skimmed the edge of the white kerchief above the photos still in the box. "What can I do for you?"

The question seemed to hit a wall in her mind. She pulled back just a bit at the words, her shoulders curling. Obvious confusion tempered with worry in her eyes. Her mouth opened, only to close a moment later. A high, soft voice whispered, "I . . . I thought . . ."

Victor watched her stumble, heard the words she stated as though she had expected she should be there.

His hand gently began to flip the kerchief in the box.

Victor blinked and looked down to his hand vaguely. Beside the box was the stack of photos he had taken out, the ones uncovered, and at the top: her photo.

Victor stared at the photo for a few more moments then rose his head again to Victoria.

"Victoria," he started again, his voice much more inviting. "Why don't you shut the door? I've been looking forward to seeing you."

Victoria's expression relaxed. She stepped into the room with a smile.

Victor closed the box and smiled back.


	14. Try Again

**A/N Okay! So expect a really fast update on the next chapter! Finally I have everything planned out and so the story should move much quicker now. I found this and the next chapter extremely hard to write for some reason. I originally wanted to update before Christmas but this took a lot longer than expected. Sorry for the long wait. And for my grammar-loving friends, I actually went through this to check my grammar! *gasp!* I may not have caught everything but I tried. I still don't have a lot of time on my hands but I'm going to try to do that from now on. Hopefully that will make the story more enjoyable.  
**

**Also as a shout out to everyone who has reviewed, thank you so much! I really, really appreciate the reviews. It makes my day and gives me a reason to keep writing. I appreciate it. :} You guys rock!  
**

**And now, here is the chapter I have kept from you. There isn't much more development before real drama. :) Enjoy.  
**

* * *

"Why am I here?"

Drew sighed. They were in his parent's room. Drew had called May and asked her to come over, which was a sight in itself considering Drew had never invited anyone to his parent's house. May had simply invited herself on occasion. Now Drew leaned against the four poster of his parent's bed and looked vaguely over her shoulder. The room was quiet to the point of tension.

Finally Drew sighed. Relaxing his posture he muttered, "I need your help."

May's eyes widened in surprise. "Oh," she managed in a small voice.

Drew shook his head at himself. "I know this is . . . awkward. I just-It would help if you could just . . . watch."

May's brow came together. She tried to be supportive as she asked, "Watch?"

Drew nodded. "I . . . I'm going to try the closet . . . again."

The room became deathly quiet.

There was something about the confession. With the words Drew was admitting so much. Admitting that he needed help, that he had demons in his past, that a closet was scaring him, and that he didn't know what was going to happen to him.

The admittance was so _not_ Drew that May wasn't sure what to do with it. She wondered what had happened since before Drew's session that had changed him from literally and completely ignoring her presence to now wanting to face it. It made her nervous for him even while she knew that they had to take advantage of his bravery.

"O-Okay."

Drew nodded, avoiding her gaze. A moment later, in a voice so quiet she could have missed it, he whispered, "Thank you."

Silence filled the room as Drew started over to the wall. May backed up behind him, feeling that leaning over his shoulder would not help matters.

May wasn't sure how much time passed as Drew only stared at the closet. She swallowed and stayed quiet.

When she was beginning to wonder if he had changed his mind, Drew grabbed the knob.

Another moment and a very audible deep breath from Drew, and the door was opened.

May watched in rapt fascination as Drew did nothing. He stood completely still, much as he had before opening the door.

It took her a moment to realize that he was _too_ still.

May swallowed and pushed from the bed behind her. The silence in the room was enough to give her shivers.

Slowly she came around his side.

His expression was the answer to everything.

May had never seen anything like it. The state she had found him in when he had kneeled on the floor didn't compare. At that time he had been muttering to himself, his face covered and contorted in obvious concentration. Now his face was blank, his body frozen, all but his eyes.

It was hard to decipher the look in his eyes. It gave the impression of being trapped, as if somebody had come before him with a knife or a gun and he was too shocked to move. But it was that same look, as if the thing before him were deadly.

It was fear.

"D-Drew?" Hand shaking, May reached forward to touch his shoulder softly. Was this what she was supposed to do?

Apparently not.

Drew's eyes widened. May had only a moment to compare this expression with the one from his last breakdown, when he had looked at her but right through her, before she found herself on the ground-her head hitting the side of the soft bed rather than the ground. The action in itself was a miracle with the dresser mere inches away.

May winced and opened her eyes, too shocked to move.

The Drew she knew was back.

Drew's mouth was parted, his own shock rising in his eyes. May saw his mouth tremble and a twist of emotion she had never seen from him before he ducked his head and, hair covering his eyes, clenched teeth and hands both.

His feet turned and May acted. Quickly she rose from the floor. "Are-Are you okay?"

Drew began to shake. "Am _I_ okay?" He asked angrily.

May stopped, hands outstretched. "It's-It's okay. I'm alright."

Drew clenched his hands tighter, so it hurt, trying to quell the shaking.

"Drew, it's okay-"

"It is _not_!"

May jumped.

"It-It's not okay." May heard the break in his voice and didn't know what to do.

"I . . ." Drew glanced behind her to the dresser. As he stared at it he whispered, "I could have hurt you."

May tried to bury her surprise at his obvious concern. "You _didn't_ hurt me."

Drew shook his head and looked away.

May was thrown off. Drew had never touched in her in fear or anger or anything else. In fact, he rarely touched her as a gesture of friendship. Finding herself on the floor was disconcerting and, if she was honest with herself, scary. But it wasn't as if he had tried to do it. She had just scared _him_, or the part of him that was having trouble differentiating between his childhood and where he was now. She could put that aside. It hadn't been him and if he could get past this, neither of them would have to be afraid.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way. Let's start with something else." May spoke quickly. She took in Drew's stiff shoulders and suddenly realized that the closet was still open. Quickly she moved behind him and shut it then moved back in front of him with a smile. "Why don't we just talk?"

The expression of distaste on his face informed her very quickly how he felt about _that_. Still, it seemed to be the most logical course to take. "Really, what can you tell me?" she pushed.

Drew glanced away, the same expression on his face. "I-I talk every week at least with Victor."

May paused. "I know. But it can't hurt."

Drew let out a breath and looked behind her. As he did he saw the mussed covers from when she had pushed against them. On automatic he walked past her and quickly tugged out the wrinkle before sitting down.

May realized this was an opportunity to address something that worried her but that everyone else seemed to love. "Let's start with that."

Drew looked at May with surprise. "What?"

May walked to him and sat on the bed beside him. "You fixed the bed sheets even though you were just going to sit on them."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "I hardly see that as an issue."

"Well… I'm not saying it is. I'm just saying it might be." When Drew remained silent she expounded. "You always do that. You're kind of obsessive about it."

Drew looked to the floor. He didn't have to ask her what _it_ was. She was right, he just hardly thought of it anymore.

"So is there a reason for it?"

Drew sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But… Well, he had to.

Drew nodded, still looking at the floor. "My-My mom. She insisted on that. . . . That was one of the things she would . . . lock me in the closet for."

The sudden silence made Drew turn to her. It was then that he realized he had never stated so plainly to her anything that his mother had done to him. He knew on some level she knew-this part at least. Talking about it with Victor had loosened his tongue so that it had just come out. Drew watched her warily for response.

May swallowed and took a breath. "O-Okay. You should tell Victor about that too."

Drew shrugged and nodded.

"What else?"

Drew rubbed his hands on his pants and looked up to the ceiling. "It's hard to decide what to say."

". . . Is there that much?" May asked in a small voice, as if fearing the answer.

Drew blinked and turned to her. He could see the concern but could only think of one answer. "Yeah."

May nodded quickly.

"Why don't we do something else?" Drew suggested in discomfort.

May paused. "What else can I help you with?"

Drew thought, and then seeming to come to a realization he stiffened. "We . . ." He swallowed. "We could go to my room."

May realized that there was a deeper reason behind why he was sleeping in his parent's room rather than his. "Why _don't_ you go in your room?"

"Too many bad memories," Drew admitted in a whisper.

May nodded. Standing quickly she announced. "Okay. I'm ready."

Drew nodded and rose from the bed. Together they made their way down the hallway. Mentally Drew berated himself. This was such a stupid thing to do. It was embarrassing enough to have her there, but helping him go through his room?

They would stop with this. May already knew things about his room. At least he wouldn't have to tell anyone else.

Drew opened the door, and stepped in followed by May. She was struck again by how simple his room was. He had no mementos, no photos or color for that matter. Just simple white sheets and blankets, a side table and a large wall closet that kept everything he really needed.

Drew sighed and looked around the room. "What great parents I had," he remarked.

May almost smiled. "At least you're aware that it was them and not you."

Drew didn't have words to express how much that meant to him, but he was sure it would sound awkward any way he tried to put it.

"Where should we start?"

Drew swallowed. His eyes strayed from the closet. "How about the dresser?"

May nodded and walked to it. There was an alarm clock and a book on top. "Anything behind the alarm clock?"

Drew shrugged. "My clock was set for four every morning. Getting your kids up early is normal though. That doesn't bother me."

May stiffened. She realized then why Drew was always up so early. Coming back to herself she glanced back at him. "Not that early."

Drew blinked.

"Did you ever get locked in the closet for not getting up?"

Drew's expression closed off. May watched him sadly as he reached quickly for the book. "I hated this book."

May leaned around him to read the title. "'The Four Steps to Adulthood,'" she read. She raised an eyebrow. "There are only four?"

"Apparently."

"Why that?"

"They always had me reading something. Getting high grades, preparing me for the future and all that. I hated this one. I left sometime through the third chapter so I never had to finish it." Glaring at it, Drew dropped it into the waste basket beside the dresser. "What a waste."

May looked at the book and shrugged. "Anything in the dresser?"

Drew shrugged. "Not much."

May reached and opened the top drawer before Drew could comment. A blush stained her cheeks and she shut it quickly, hiding the socks and underwear from view. Drew faintly blushed but tried not to laugh. It was, after all, clothing from when he was fifteen.

May quickly moved onto the next drawer and found it filled with clothing, though the drawer was very small.

"Looks . . . normal."

"That's because it is normal. It's just clothes. Not everything of mine is unnatural."

May sighed and opened the next one, finding it full of paper and notebooks. Blinking she reopened the clothing drawer. "Actually . . . "

"What?"

"Is this all the clothing you had?"

Drew blinked. "Um, well yeah." Looking to the drawer she had open he realized that it _was_ a bit unnatural. The dresser was hardly a dresser, barely to his waist and only double his girth in width. The drawer was small. Very small.

He didn't really feel like commenting on that.

"It's not a big deal."

May pursed her lips. It wasn't really, in comparison to other things. But the small amount of clothing there was spoke volumes to her. It said that not only did his parents over control him but they didn't care to buy him enough clothing for a week's worth of a wardrobe. And going by the wealth of the house, it wasn't because of money.

She wasn't sure how Drew would respond to her theory about the clothing. "It doesn't bother you that this is all your parents bought you?"

Drew stared at it for a moment. "Well . . ."

May turned to look at his outfit and the bright colors he was dressed in. The clothing in the drawer was very standard. White and black shirts and pinstriped collar dress shirts. Not Drew's style at all.

Seeing her expression Drew sighed. "I hated it," Drew admitted with a twisted expression.

May smiled and softly closed the drawer. "So . . . the paper?" She asked.

"Just homework and notes and such." The words had come out much quicker than May had anticipated. May looked at him and found the lightest of blushes staining his cheeks. She turned back to the drawer and barely caught sight of a small sketched rose before Drew shut the drawer for her. "Shall we move onto the closet?"

"Did-Were you writing love notes?" May raised an eyebrow as Drew flushed. He did so quite attractively, which was rare for men in her mind. But now that the question was out she had to know.

Drew looked down to his hand. "Well… um…" He glanced nervously up to her and sighed. A roll of his eyes set the stage for his words. "I was ten."

May wanted to laugh. "And you kept them?"

The question deepened the blush. "It was…It was all that I had that was mine."

May's expression softened. There was a moment of silence in which she saw Drew swallow and look away. "The closet?" she found herself whispering.

Drew looked to it, glancing down in the process to avoid her face. "Sounds good."

May moved to it, well aware of Drew still standing beside the dresser behind her. She opened the closet door and was met with a sight very similar to the one she had seen when they had both been nine. There were blankets on the floor. Now she would know.

"The blankets?" May asked softly.

Drew took a moment to respond. "I did that," he admitted quietly. "I kept them there all the time, so it would be normal. That way I had something if…"

"If you were locked in."

Drew didn't answer.

Knowing it was time to move on May looked to shelf above her head. "What's in the boxes?"

Drew shrugged. "Pretty much everything else I owned. My shoes, coat, backpack. Just all of that stuff."

May nodded. She looked to the other side of the closet. "No dresses," she commented before she had thought the words through.

Drew winced. "No," he said simply.

May sighed at her stupidity. "Why not?" she asked, knowing the damage was past.

"She, ah-Well, I guess they weren't necessary anymore."

May turned to him with a raised eyebrow. The expression stated, 'What's the point in doing this if you're not going to answer?'

Drew sighed. "I'd had enough. I threw them out."

May stiffened. "What happened?"

The room became very quiet. Drew felt himself pull into a memory. "She…did what she always did."

May's lips pursed. "How long?" She asked quietly, seeing the blank expression.

The tension still high, Drew looked away.

"A long time."

Had getting rid of the dresses been that worth it to him, afraid as he was of the consequences? May tried to envision a younger Drew, trapped in the closet for a few hours, waiting for someone to open it. Or… was it longer? How long was a long time?

"How-How long?"

Drew raised his gaze to hers. May could see his discomfort, the hesitance to answer. Finally he said (in a tremulous voice she had never heard), "I don't know."

'I don't know.' How could you loose track of time? Surely he would have checked when he came out of the closet? He had an alarm clock on his dresser.

Or maybe…maybe it had lasted longer than the alarm clock, which only boasted hours, would tell him?

So… over a day? Days?

May felt frozen with the realization. This went much further than she had thought. This went past cruelty to child endangerment. Had it happened at other points in his life too?

For a minute she could only focus on that idea as it spun through her head, and then that brought her to another realization-something she had worried about him often. Drew ate lightly, extremely so from the moment she had met him. Was this why? Were his parents behind that too? Did it stream again from the closet-from getting used to not eating for days at a time? Or did it have to do with something else they had done to him?

May turned back to the closet. She wasn't sure how to handle the words. An awkward feeling came over the room. It was so wrong of them. How could they do these things to their own child? May tried to envision a mother doing the things Drew had experienced and couldn't. It simply didn't fit the mold of a mother.

"This is so wrong," May found herself whispering.

Behind her, Drew stiffened. "What was that?"

May shook her head. "Nothing. It-It's nothing."

Drew frowned and let out a breath. "I think that's it," he stated.

May looked through the closet again, seeing if she had missed anything else. Looking over the blankets she titled her head, seeing a glint of light in the corner. She reached down and grabbed it, finding it to be the end of a chain. A pocket watch followed the chain as she pulled. "What's this?"

"That's a pocket watch."

May rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"Yeah."

"So?"

Drew shrugged behind her. "It's just that. I just liked it."

"Where'd you get it?"

Drew shifted. "A friend in school. Well…" Drew's folded arms relaxed, his eyes becoming distant. "…not a friend…"

May glanced at him. "Not a friend?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

May blinked, surprised that after all he had shared this is where he would draw the line. But he had shared enough already. "Alright…" May again kneeled and placed it back in the closet.

As they were leaving the room a thought occurred to her. The watch was obviously something he had hidden from his parents, and one of the only things of his own that he possessed. If it had meant so much to him, enough to hide it, why had he left it behind?

* * *

"Hello, Doctor Vanrae?"

Victor nodded.

"We'd like to have a word with you."

Surprised, Victor swept his hand towards the room in a welcoming gesture. "Come on in."

A man and a woman stepped into the room, each wearing navy blue. The man, thin with graying hair that didn't match his young face, put his badge away and started across the room.

Victor watched them warily. Police. It could be about anything. He had plenty of patients, but it was worrisome.

Victor left the table he had been leaning over and made his way to his desk against the back wall. The officers followed and sat in the two chairs before it, the same that May and Drew had sat in days before. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to ask you about one of your patients."

Victor paused. "I have confidentiality agreements with my patients."

The woman spoke up then, drawing his attention to her. She was beautiful, and obviously younger than the man. Her ash brown hair was clipped behind her head. Blue eyes looked at him intently as she stated, "We're aware of that. But this is a matter of police business now and so we will need your support."

Victor glanced at the man and nodded. "I'll do what I can," he agreed vaguely.

The woman nodded. "We have a few questions about a woman we were told is one of your patients. Victoria Reynolds."

Victor blinked. "Yes, she's one of my patients." Sudden concern hit him. "Is she alright?"

The man sighed. "Doctor Vanrae. This girl has been missing for the last three days. Honestly, we wouldn't even be looking for her at this point, but her father is a very prominent figure at the office."

It was clear that 'the office' referred to either the police station or political standing. Victor frowned. He hadn't known that…

Victor snapped himself from the surprise. "Um-alright. What can I do for you?"

"We just have a couple of questions," the woman chipped in. "We assume the last time you saw her was at your last session?"

Victor nodded. "Yes, that's right."

"And when was that?"

Victor paused. "Tuesday. Eleven in the morning."

There was a short silence. "So three days ago?" the man asked.

Victor nodded.

The two glanced at each other as if beginning to pull things together. It wasn't hard to see why.

"We need to know where she would go after your office."

"She walked home as far as I know." Feeling a little bit annoyed he added. "I don't follow my patients after their sessions. If you want a detailed record you would be looking for a patient in an institution."

The man nodded. "We'd like to get through this as painlessly as possible. Anything you could tell us about the girl would be appreciated."

Victor sighed. He glanced towards the ceiling for a moment, thinking. "I don't know how much help I'll be. I'll tell you the honest truth. I'm surprised… and worried…"

Before he could go on the woman cut in. "Worried?"

Victor looked down to her. "Victoria had a lot of fears. That was what we were working on. It wouldn't be like her to just not show up somewhere. As far as I know, she rarely went out, other than when she was with her boyfriend. I would rather have put her in a home for her own safety, honestly. I didn't like the idea of her functioning completely alone. But-well, she was afraid of the idea of a home too, so we tried to make it work."

"You didn't find that risky?"

"It was, in a way. I've already told you it wasn't my opportune situation. But she was making progress and I'm paid for that progress-not to give up and put her away."

The man nodded. "What can you tell us about her specifically? What were these fears of hers?"

Victor swallowed. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that."

The man pulled back, startled.

The woman frowned. "You are aware that it is the law to answer our questions regarding this?"

There was a short silence. Victor placed his chin above clasped fingers. "Not in this state."

A moment of silence between them and Victor continued. "I apologize, but I do have an agreement. If this turns into a crime investigation you have full rights to her information, but as far as I can see it is simply a missing persons report. Before you get too nervous I would suggest stopping at her boyfriend's house. That would be the most likely place for her to be."

The woman blinked in surprise.

Victor stood. "Please, let me know if I can do anything else for you."

Victor saw them out with a frown. What had happened? Why would she not have told her family where she was? Was this her boyfriend's doing? Victor glanced at the clock. Her next session wasn't for another three days.

That was worrisome.

* * *

"Hello."

"Good afternoon, Drew. How are you?"

Drew shrugged but Victor could see the hidden signs of a smile tugging at his lips.

Despite what he considered failure, Drew couldn't help but feel slightly…proud of himself for standing up to his fear. It had ended badly but he could already feel himself making changes. The fears were fresh but after focusing on them for so long some were starting to fade, at least to the point that he could talk about them.

It helped that his best friend and potential love interest had no judgments. That she hadn't changed the slightest bit in her attitude towards him.

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Have something to tell me?"

Drew couldn't help the smile. He knew it would sound ridiculous but he couldn't help feeling relieved and happy at the realization that he could do this, and not only could he do it, but his friends still cared in the same exact way they had before. At least May did, and that was enough.

"I tried again."

Victor blinked then his eyes widened. "Same thing as before?"

Drew nodded.

"What happened?"

"I kind of shut down again," Drew admitted. "But…I asked May to stay this time. She snapped me out of it."

Victor sat very still.

Drew frowned. "Is that…okay? Or-"

"It's fine. I was just surprised is all. It's impressive that you would choose to try again. What changed your mind?"

"Well you did, honestly."

Victor tilted his head in a "go on" fashion.

"I just realized that I needed to keep trying. And… it helps that May doesn't really seem bothered by it." The smile came again against his will as he looked down. "I was so afraid that things would change, and not much has at all."

"Good."

Drew looked up.

"Tell me about it. Did it feel different than the last time?"

Drew paused; he looked up to a nonexistent sky in thought. "It's difficult to describe. It was only a moment this time. I felt…I felt scared, but it was over before it began with May there." Drew stumbled on admitting his fears, but weeks of talking of nothing but them was helping it to come more and more naturally. "And after that she went through some of my stuff with me."

"She went through your things with you?"

Drew nodded and looked down to see Victor with an upraised eyebrow. "What was the significance of that?"

"It just…I have a lot of bad memories and," he shrugged. "It helped, or at least helped me to remember them." He winced. "If nothing else I can face them now." His tone showed that he wasn't looking forward to it but was ready.

"Alright then. What memories did you uncover?"

Drew stilled. "May said I should tell you about cleaning…" He realized it sounded strange but wasn't sure how else to put it. "I guess-May thinks it's obsessive. That I clean too much…. I told her that my mother would lock me up for not doing it. So maybe…" His tone becoming quieter as he continued.

Victor nodded. "So you pick up behind yourself, is what you're saying?"

Drew nodded. "And others, if it's something of mine they've messed up or if I was part of it. I hardly notice it but she does and she points it out all the time."

Victor smiled. "You'd think a woman would be pleased with that."

Drew smiled. "Not May. She's more concerned with other things."

"Why do you think you do that?"

Drew shrugged. "My mom I guess. I did a lot of things because of her."

"But why would you become so obsessive of it because of your mom?"

Drew paused. Thoughtfully he started, "Well… I guess because she had fits when I didn't listen. I wanted to avoid those and it just became second nature. It was easier to do that then to deal with the rest."

"'The rest' being?"

"…Punishments. Closets. That sort of thing…"

"What else did you uncover?"

Drew sighed, relieved that Victor had moved on. Deciding to face it didn't make stomaching memories any easier. "May pointed out my alarm clock and I told her my parents got me up at four."

Victor nodded.

Looking at him curiously Drew stated, "She said that was strange."

"Well, it's definitely too early for a teenager. Could be part of some of your sleep issues. I imagine it just became second nature after a while?"

Drew nodded. "I always wake up at four."

"When do you go to sleep?"

Drew winced. "Um, later."

Victor looked at him thoughtfully. "Why is that I wonder?"

Drew shrugged and looked away.

"What else?"

"I didn't have a lot of clothes, and none I liked."

"That is interesting. Why would you say your parents did that?"

"I don't know."

"No idea?"

Drew shook his head. "I'm not sure there was anything behind it. It wasn't as if they gave me old clothes or hand me downs. Everything was good quality. They just didn't get much and they weren't me, so I didn't like it. They probably didn't buy more because I had trouble wearing what I already had."

Victor, on impulse glanced at Drew's attire. "What sort of clothes did they buy you?"

"Pinstriped, button shirts. Slacks. Dull tees. Just stuff like that."

Victor smiled. "I can see how that would be a problem."

Drew half-glared at him. Feeling still a bit pressured he hurried on. "She mentioned there weren't dresses." The phrase was out of his mouth before he could stop it, the next item on the list said out of nervousness. Drew closed his eyes with the knowledge of what he had just admitted and what he would now have to face.

Victor stared back, surprised. "Dresses?" he asked calmly.

Drew swallowed and nodded with eyes still closed. Opening them he muttered through a suddenly tight throat. "My mum used to keep them in my closet."

Victor didn't respond for a moment but Drew was so uncomfortable that he let it be. He was surprised when instead of addressing what he had said Victor stated, "Have you noticed you do that when you're feeling emotional?"

Drew looked back in confusion.

"You call her 'mum' instead of 'mom.'"

Drew's eyes widened.

"That's an English phrase isn't it? And your mother's English?"

Drew nodded slowly.

"I've noticed you only do that in times of stress, when you seem to be reliving past memories."

Drew had gone very still. He wasn't sure what to make of the revelation. "I uh-I called her that when I was a kid."

"Why did you stop?"

Drew winced. "It's not an American phrase. A lot of kids haven't heard it and I was made fun of for it. That stops those things pretty quick."

"True." Victor took in the way Drew had gone suddenly stiff. "How old were you when you stopped?"

"Eight."

"That's oddly specific."

Drew swallowed. His hands shifted and Victor looked down just in time to gather that Drew had clenched them to stop the shaking.

"I know."

Victor looked back up. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Drew shook his head. "It's not important."

Victor frowned to himself. "It's alright if you don't want to, but keep in mind that I'm here because it's all important. I'm more than willing to hear anything you have to say."

Drew let out a breath and released his hands then looked up with a smile. "Really. It's fine."

Victor could see that though something was still bothering him, the smile wasn't completely forced, there was some honesty behind it and that was enough for now.

"The dresses?"

Drew stiffened again immediately. "Um…"

"Can you talk about it at all?"

Drew's mouth trembled. Quickly he clenched his jaw to stop it and looked down to his hands. Could you talk about that? Should he just forget it for now?

Would it be her winning again?

Drew shuddered. "I'm not sure what that was about."

Victor had to strain his ears to hear.

"She uh-" he shook his head and let out a deep breath. "She wanted a girl I think, or I used to. Now I'm not sure if she wanted something else-I just don't know what that would be." Drew shifted in his chair. Of all the subjects, this was the worst. "I'm not sure what else to say about it."

Victor stayed quiet. He could see the hidden possibilities behind Drew's words but was aware that Drew couldn't see them at all. It wouldn't be necessary, and really, to bring them up. And it would be useless anyway, as it was impossible to know for sure. Unless…

"She kept them in your closet?"

Drew didn't so much as nod in response and so Victor continued.

"Did anything ever happen concerning them?"

Drew's hands tightened against each other. Unable to do much more, he shook his head.

"I believe you, but I can see some stress over the question. Is there anything you want to talk about regarding it?"

Drew didn't know where to start or how to without breaking down. It was wrong. He still couldn't move past that thought to make a more constructive idea of it. As a child the feeling had been there when he had so much as glanced at them. More of a passing thought than a realization. He still wasn't sure what to make of it, but he wasn't sure how to explain that or if he even wanted to. It was strange and embarrassing. That was all he needed to know to make it awkward to talk about.

Drew shook his head.

Victor raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

Drew nodded. "It's good."

"Alright then. Let me know if you ever want to breach it. Anything else?"

Drew thought. What else had they uncovered? All at once he froze. There had been something else. Something small. He could see metal glinting in his mind. It had less to do with his mother than with his childhood. But it did…hurt still, he admitted to himself; so did that mean that he _did_ need to talk about it?

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Something else?"

Drew swallowed. He took a moment more to think about it and slowly shook his head.

Victor gave him a pained smile and nodded in acceptance. "Alright." He glanced up to the clock. "Well, our session's up. I'll see you next week."

Drew nodded vaguely. "Yeah. See you then." His thoughts were already fading to memories. He paused at the door and glanced back in.

Victor had already risen from the chair but feeling the stare on his back, turned. "Something else I can do for you?"

Drew swallowed and allowed himself to voice a very real concern. "Is this good?" he muttered.

Victor seemed to know what he was referring to without having to expound. Was it good to face so much at once? Had he done the right thing when going through his pain with May?

Victor smiled softly. "It's good, Drew. You're doing great."

Drew wasn't sure what he would have thought about that a few months ago, but for a moment he shut off his thoughts and allowed himself to feel the comfort that went through him with the validation. The validation that he was doing well.

He reminded himself again that this would be worth it.


	15. Pocket Watch

***Sob!* Writing Chapter 15 made me so emotional! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter as much as it affected me. I think this one speaks for itself. Also, this one is all memories (just so the beginning doesn't throw you off). :P I know. My own sad scenes affect me...**

**This chapter is super long, so heads up. Hope you enjoy it!**

* * *

Brody, a name of Irish and English decent. Maybe that was the first thing that brought them together.

It wasn't a big thing to the outside world, but Drew recognized it.

One day, at eight years old, Brody, with copper curls falling into hazel eyes, brought with him a small chained item for show and tell.

A pocket watch.

Drew watched with disinterest, the same he had for every other student. He wouldn't admit to himself that he had the slightest bit more interest in Brody's show and tell then in the other children. It wouldn't have made a difference. Silently, he pulled his sleeves down to cover the accidental bruising of a scene with his mother that morning (and it had really been an accident, his mother never physically hurt him). He had learned long ago not to put hope into a friendship.

It didn't last long.

Brody smiled and sat. Drew watched him from the corner of his eye till Brody had sat down and looked happily at the pocket watch one more time before putting it in his pocket.

Two hours and some minutes later, Drew followed the other children to lunch at a much slower pace. They had almost reached the lunch room when Drew saw the glint of silver fall to the floor.

Watching Brody continue to walk ahead unaware, Drew picked up the watch and shouted, "Hey." He resisted quipping when the boy turned and instead settled with holding the chain up in two fingers. "This yours?"

Brody blinked beside a friend and turned over his shoulder. His eyes widened. His hand went to his pocket and he smiled in relief. "Oh good. Thank you!" He ran forward and took the watch from Drew. "It's my dad's," he explained quickly. "I'll be in big trouble if I lose it."

Drew nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Drew," he answered immediately.

Brody smiled. Drew was instantly thrown off by the warm response. Silently he wondered what he had done to deserve the smile. "I'm Brody! Thanks!"

Drew felt a bit dazed. For a moment he could only stare. Nobody treated him like this. And when they did, it didn't last long. He shouldn't be pulled into it. He shouldn't care. He shouldn't-

"Want to eat lunch with me?"

Drew swallowed and forcing every warning feeling away, nodded.

The friendship was immediate. Drew slowly allowed himself to relax. At one point he even began to let himself believe that it would last. It felt good to have a friend, even if they didn't connect very well. Drew didn't register that. He had somebody who wanted to be around him and who called him his friend. That was all he wanted.

Starving for the attention, he couldn't turn it down-even though he knew that he should. How could this be messed up? His mother didn't see him at school. She wouldn't do anything, because she didn't know.

It's hard to keep a secret from two people involved in the same issue. It's much easier if one person is on your side. But they wouldn't be. Drew knew that.

He couldn't risk it.

"What do you do after school?"

Drew swallowed his sandwich and stilled. After a moment he shrugged. "You know, school and stuff."

Brody blinked. "I mean after school. What do you do for fun?"

Drew stared at his plate for a moment searching for an answer. Seeing his stoic aura Brody stated, "I like to read! Do you read?"

This was one of the things he liked about Brody. When he couldn't think of an answer, Brody would supply one for him. Drew nodded. "Yeah. I don't read a lot of what I like."

"What do you read?"

"Books my parents give me."

Brody frowned. "I wish my parents gave me books."

Drew shrugged. "They're not very good."

"How good do you read?"

Drew shrugged. "Good, I guess."

"What's your favorite book?"

Again, Drew came up short. He shrugged.

Brody leaned around him and looked at his backpack. "Do you have a book with you?"

Drew realized with the question that he did, but did he really want to show it to him? A few moments later of pushing from Brody and Drew sighed and lifted his pack to the bench beside them. He pulled out the most recent of his parents' books and handed it to Brody who stared at it blankly.

"It's-It's big."

Drew wasn't sure how to respond to that. "That's what my mum got me."

Brody tilted his head and flipped through the book. "There aren't any pictures."

Drew blinked. "You don't need pictures in a book. Only words."

Brody glanced at him. "Mine have pictures."

Drew couldn't resist sneering. "Good for your books."

Brody turned back to the book. "The… man… had an ob-ob…obli-gah…obli-"

"Obligation," Drew finished for him.

Brody shrugged and closed the book. "It looks boring."

"It is." Drew took the book back and began to stuff it back into his pack.

"Then why are you reading it?"

Drew paused with the book part way in then pulled in his shoulders and zipped it closed.

Brody moved on, as he always did.

And it worked, for a long time.

* * *

"My dad gave me his pocket watch."

Drew nodded. "That's cool," he stated, putting his trash in a paper bag.

"I want you to have it."

Drew stilled, hand in the bag and turned slowly to see him.

"I know you like it, and I think you like it more than me. My dad won't miss it anymore. Want it?"

Brody's large smile started to get to him. Feeling awkward Drew dropped his gaze to the pocket watch outstretched to him. Brody had no way of knowing how much it meant to him, and of how terrified he was to take it.

To that date, Drew had never received one present. His parents always gave him things for his birthday, but the things they gave where things like signing him up for piano lessons or getting him a better tutor. It had nothing to do with gift giving and everything to do with the same progress the books they assigned to him were asking for. His parents weren't poor, they just didn't give him meaningful gifts. Not real gifts.

Drew's heart thudded in his chest and he could only stare. It felt embarrassing. A real present, from a real friend. The idea was such a deep wish that he could hardly wrap his mind around it. The fact that it meant so much filled him with shame. He was aware of how simple an act it would seem to Brody.

Still with his throat filled with emotion he could only sit frozen, staring at the one thing he had wished for his entire life.

Brody blinked. "Do you not want it?"

Seeing his arms move back sparked a flare of panic. Drew moved before he had thought his actions through and plucked the pocket watch from his hands. "I like it!" Realizing how rushed he had been he blushed and looked down to the watch in his hands. "Thank you."

Brody smiled. Drew hid his expression.

The next night Drew lay in bed with his thoughts spinning. Something was awakening in him, something that he himself didn't recognize. Brody liked him, Brody recognized him. Why didn't his parents? What made him so bad? What had he ever done to ask for any of this…this disdain?

In frustration Drew threw his covers off and stood in anxiety. His gaze immediately fell on the closet some feet away. He glared at it and made his way over, then opened the right side. A row of dresses glared at him. Drew glared back.

In the dark of the night, Drew quietly pulled the dresses down and began to set them on top of his laundry basket.

* * *

"What is this?"

Drew blinked and shook his head blearily. A fuzzy outline made itself apparent above him. Drew blinked sleepily and turned to his clock.

3:43.

Drew turned back to him in sleepy annoyance. "What's what?" As he began to wake more he took in the worried and frustrated face of his father and frowned. "What happened?" Drew sat up and his father motioned to the corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" he asked with a tone of extreme concern.

Drew looked to the pile of dresses sleepily. "I-I'm throwing them out."

He was pulled completely from his sleep when two hands came down and grabbed him tightly at the shoulders. His eyes widened as his father shook him. While not yelling, he might as well have been. "Drew, you _never_ do this again. You put those back. _You put them back _now."

Drew's horror mounted at the words. One question ran through his head: Why? The worry and stress on his father face didn't fade. With a weight in his stomach and hitch in his throat, Drew slipped himself out of bed and began to re-hang the dresses.

A thought came again and again as he did: Why didn't his father care for him as much as he did for his mother?

* * *

"Drew…"

Drew turned. "Yeah, mum?"

"What is this?"

Drew took in the look of complete and utter bafflement on his mothers face and felt his blood run cold. Some feet from him at the table his father stiffened in like.

Drew's mother held a small red dress with old fashioned lace up before her. "I found this under your laundry."

Drew's lips quivered. He could feel the stare of his father behind him up the table and didn't know what to do or what to say. "I uh-I don't know," he muttered, more of a nervous mantra then a true response.

The confusion on her face began to mount. "Where did this come from?"

Drew swallowed. He wasn't allowed to lie, and his mind wouldn't even consider it. "My closet," he said, just below a whisper.

Her expression came together. She blinked and then frowned, her expression now knowledgeable and disappointed and angry.

Drew would never understand this change. This switch from deeply confused to angry and obsessive. Her responses had always been that way. Drew barely resisted when she reached across the table. He focused on the feeling in his pocket, the comforting weight of the watch and its meaning to him as he was dragged up the stairs.

* * *

"You look really tired."

Drew looked up blankly to the girl before him. A brunette with big blue eyes which at the moment did nothing to comfort him. Without answer, he turned back to his desk and sighed, pulling his coat around him.

The girl frowned. "Are you okay?"

Drew ignored her. While his ears heard her, his mind was filled with other stress and filtered out the need to answer her trivial questions.

With a sigh the girl sat down.

This continued for a week. Brody received answers, but even with him they were mellow and often he would grow bored and run off to play with somebody else before finding his way back to Drew. It was during such a time, as Drew chose to stay in class for lunch, that the girl returned. "Are you alright? You still look really bad."

Drew sighed. "I'm fine," he muttered. He didn't look at her and she had to strain to hear him.

"Have you seen the nurse yet?" Receiving again no response she frowned. "You should at least check. I'll go with you. If you're sick-"

She continued and the words mounted until the stress was just too much. "I'm just tired, okay?!"

Drew felt the lightest of blushes dust his cheeks and hated it.

"Why?"

In his embarrassment Drew sneered. "None of your business, Barbie," he muttered.

The girl glared at him and he couldn't help but look away though he couldn't apologize.

"It's just a question."

"Why should I tell you?" He asked quietly.

"Don't you think you should take better care of yourself?"

Drew rolled his eyes. "I know how to take care of myself. Worry about yourself."

"What's wrong with me worrying about you?"

Drew blinked, turning back to her curiously but suspiciously. "Why do you care?"

"Um…"

Drew chuckled. It was actually far more bitter than the way that the girl probably heard it. His theory was proven when she stated loudly, "I'm allowed to worry about my friends!"

Drew's pained laughing stopped. He paused and stared at her. Through everything Brody had stayed his friend. Could he let this in to? Could he try for another one? Did he even want her as a friend? Drew silently assessed the idea. "Since when are we friends?"

She blushed at her own hurried words. "Since…Since right now!"

Drew blinked, and then he sat up in his chair and stared at his desk, expression notably less despondent. Swallowing, willing away his nervousness he conceded, "Well…alright then."

The girl blinked and stared and Drew couldn't help the smile. If she decided she didn't want to be his friend it was still nearly worth it for that expression.

The girl noticeably tried to find away to wrap her mind around what had just happened, then finally seeming to come to an understanding she held her hand out. "May."

"May what?"

"It's my name."

Drew bit the inside of his lip and stared at her hand. "Drew."

May paused, pulled back her hand and nodded with a small smile.

This time the blue eyes did do something.

* * *

"Can we go to your house?"

Drew felt his stomach drop, pulling on his heart in the process. His body felt numb when he turned to Brody. "My-My house?"

Brody nodded. "I've never been there."

Drew looked slowly back to his plate and stared at it for a few moments, then muttered, "I don't think that's such a good idea."

Brody blinked. "Huh? Why not?"

His food suddenly wasn't very appetizing. Drew picked at it slowly then pushed it forward. Without thought he began to put his arms on the table but pulled them back at the last second and instead pulled subconsciously at his shirt. "I um… I dunno."

Something made him want to say yes. He wanted to do the normal thing and invite his friend over, but then that begged the question of what would happen when he got there. Drew had never had a friend over, and all of his others (though he had been extremely young), had been chased away by his mother. He had learned not to hope. He wasn't sure what would happen.

Brody leaned around the table to look at his face. "You look sick."

Drew swallowed and looked away. "I…I…."

"Why don't we go to my house first? Then next week we can go to yours?"

Drew looked up at him with troubled eyes and nodded.

* * *

Drew decided to ask his father to go to Brody's house. He knew that no matter what he did, it wouldn't go over well with his mother. His heart was in his throat as he nervously asked.

Drew's father looked to him with surprise then paused.

For several minutes.

Drew had learned not to interrupt, and so for the torturous long moments he stood quietly and waited for an answer.

"What day?"

Drew jumped when his father finally answered. "Uh, Fr…Friday."

Another moment stretched as his father stared ahead in deep thought. "Alright," he finally stated just above a whisper.

Drew could hardly hope to believe it. "Really?"

He knew a clueless question usually gathered an annoyed response, but it had come from him before he could stop it.

"Be home by six-thirty."

Drew nodded eagerly.

"Drew." Drew froze with the sudden intensity he was under. His father looked him strait in the eye and stated firmly. "Make _sure_ you are home by six-thirty."

Drew looked between his father's eyes and nodded slowly. He couldn't help comparing the look to the one his father had given him when he tried to throw out the dresses. He didn't fully understand it, but he knew it was important.

* * *

"So you're Drew! I've heard so much about you." Drew jumped when Brody's mother (a kind looking woman with curly copper hair like Brody's and big green eyes) reached down and began to pull off his coat. "I'll take that."

Drew looked to Brody in nervousness, but Brody only smiled. It served to relax Drew and he stood very still as the woman retrieved his coat. "Um… miss… I-uh…"

The woman smiled. "You can call me Miss Wright."

Another English name. Drew nodded. "Thank you for letting me come over, Miss Wright." He tilted his head once as a further expression of this point.

The woman's eyes nodded. "My, what manners you have." Then pulling herself from the surprise, she smiled back with some amusement. "You're very welcome. Why don't you two head into the kitchen? Brody, share your snacks with Drew."

Brody shook his head. "Yeah, I know."

Brody's mother shook her head in like and walked to the closet with Drew's coat.

Drew watched her walk away with longing in his chest.

"Drew!"

Drew winced away as Brody pushed him in the shoulder and sent him a glare.

"C'mon!"

Drew glanced back to the closet as they ventured into the kitchen. Drew couldn't help but look around as they did. The house, though beautiful, wasn't nearly as ornate as his parents' but it felt much warmer. A subtle glow went through the house from the lights and beige walls.

As they found themselves in the kitchen, Brody pulled himself up onto a tall stool before the counter. "C'mon."

Drew stared at the tall chair and frowned. Not wanting to ask for help he grabbed the top of the chair and used the bottom support beam to climb up the seat.

"Do you want sandwiches or chips?" Brody held it out to him and when Drew only stared announced, "You want chips."

* * *

Drew was home early. He was surprised to find himself alone in the house. Several minutes later both of his parents walked in. Drew hid upstairs and did his homework.

* * *

"So can we go to your house?"

Drew shifted. "Um, I have to ask my dad."

"K! I'll tell my mom."

Drew nodded, hiding the way his stomach shifted.

* * *

"Dad?"

Drew's dad looked to him momentarily then back to the paper in his hand. "Can I…" He stopped, swallowed, and nervously forged on. "C-Can I bring a friend home?"

The paper lowered. "Is this the same boy you visited yesterday?"

Drew hesitated but nodded.

His father sighed. "I'll talk to your mom about it."

The simple sentence sent fear strait to his heart.

"Um-actually, I don't think we should do it. Forget about…. You don't have to tell her."

Drew's father looked at him seriously. "I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"So what did your dad say?"

Drew bit his lip. His father had agreed, but stated that they needed to come over after four, when he would be coming home from work (which was earlier than usual). He didn't know what to do. Was this worth the risk? He felt like he had no options. There was no choice. "Y-Yeah."

"Great!"

Drew winced. "Yeah…. Great."

Seeing Brody's bright smile prompted a painful one from him and a flame of hope. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe this would be the start of his life with friends.

He could only hope, desperately.

* * *

"This is your house?!"

Drew nodded. Brody's mouth fell open. "You could've told me you were rich!"

Drew glared at the ground. "It's just my house."

"It's a _big_ house."

Drew shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

Brody looked at Drew and raised an eyebrow. "Are we going in?"

Drew hadn't realized that Brody was waiting on him. His feet felt numb on the concrete. They were early, but not by much. Drew's father had said to wait till four, but he couldn't very well leave Brody hanging around for the next half an hour. Taking a calming breath he nodded shakily. "Yeah."

Brody followed as Drew started up the steps. His expression only became more surprised as they stepped in. Drew carefully looked around the house. "Dad? Mum?"

Brody stared at his back. "'Mum?'" he quoted.

Drew blinked and looked back over his shoulder. "Uh, yeah."

"Why do you call your mom, 'mum?'?"

Drew blinked again. Up until that point he had never thought of it as strange. He had noticed that other kids said it differently, but it was simply that, different. He frowned. "Yeah. That's what I call her."

"Oh…. Okay. Why?"

"Because that's what she is." Drew felt his frustration growing. Luckily, or unluckily, he was saved having to explain it more as the very woman they were speaking of came around the corner.

"Drew are you-" She came up short, looking between Drew and the boy beside him. She raised an eyebrow. "Who is this?"

Drew's stomach had dropped. He was unable to answer and didn't know whether to be upset or pleased as Brody did what he always did and filled in the awkward silence with a simple response. "Nice to meet you, Drew's mom. I'm Brody."

Drew winced. Obviously Brody's mother had told him to be polite when introducing himself. Nobody Drew had ever met had referred to their friend's mother in that manner. It wasn't strictly etiquette. He wondered what his mother would think. He was surprised when she smiled. "Well it's nice to meet you, Brody."

Drew stared, wondering if he could really drop his fears.

"Are you friends from school?"

Brody nodded at the same time that Drew shook his head 'no.'

"Yep! We're in the same class!"

Drew's mom tilted her head, glancing at Drew in the same moment with the eyebrow still slightly raised, as if addressing the way he had shook his head. "That true, Drew?"

After a moment of silence Brody turned to Drew and changed his expression from a bright smile to a look of concern. Drew stared strait back to his mother, his fists clenched as his body shook. "Are you okay?"

Drew's lips shook. He couldn't answer with his mind still on his mother, on one thought as she stared back at him.

As Drew wasn't able to break the stare, finally it was his mother who did. She turned back to Brody and smiled. "Why don't you two head into the sitting room and I'll make some tea?"

"Tea?" The realizing he had perhaps asked an offensive question Brody quickly smiled. "Okay."

Drew continued to stare at the spot his mother had vacated as Brody turned to him. "Where's the sitting room?"

Drew swallowed and pointed to their right. As he began to lead his thoughts stayed heavily on his one previous thought: He had lied. It may have been just a nod, but he had lied.

And he wasn't allowed to lie.

"Wow! This is big! What's a sitting room? Is it like a living room?"

"Yeah," Drew answered without thought.

Brody jumped backward onto the couch nearest him and looked up to Drew with a smile, then frowned. "What's up with you?"

Drew startled. "Oh-uh… nothing." Quickly he sat down next to Brody. "What do you want to do?"

Brody looked around. "What is there to do?"

Drew shrugged. "I have a piano. We could probably play in my room too."

"You play piano?"

"I'm not very good." Drew admitted without shame.

Brody smiled. "It's kind of girly."

Drew frowned. "My mu-My mom makes me."

"What do I make you do?"

Drew jumped as Brody turned. "Oh. Hi," Brody stated.

"Thank you," Drew said as his mom set some drinks in front of them.

"What is it?" Brody asked.

She smiled. "Just a nice blend to calm your nerves."

Brody gave a half smile and looked back to the cup and shrugged, picking it up. He took a sip and his eyes widened in surprise. "It's good!"

"That was the idea, dear."

Drew couldn't help but laugh at the quip. In these moments he was very like his mother, and she like him. Moments where she was, as Drew had once thought of it, herself. At other times Drew didn't know what she was, but it wasn't the same.

Drew lifted his glass and sipped it. After a moment his mother shook her head and let out a deep breath. "Well, that's all I suppose. I'll leave you two be. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thank you."

Brody dropped the glass just long enough to utter the same thanks and set it down.

Drew laughed. "It's gone already!"

Brody shrugged. "It's good and there wasn't very much."

Drew shook his head and sipped more of his. He wasn't sure why Brody liked it so much. He himself liked it, but he knew that it was very bitter. He hadn't expected Brody to like it instantly. Realizing Brody was waiting for him, Drew downed half of the glass and stood. "Kay. I'm ready."

"Your room?"

Drew nodded. He happened to glance down at their glasses again (it wasn't often he left a mess behind) and paused. At his young age he didn't know that he was more attentive than most children, and he had noticed a small difference in the tea he had left behind and the few drops left in Brody's cup.

Mainly in color.

"Drew."

Drew shook his head, still frowning. Why would his mother give them different teas?

"Where's your room?"

Drew took one more moment to take in Brody and sighed. Brody was fine. Maybe she had sweetened Brody's. It would explain why the color was lighter and why he had liked it so much the first time.

A little pain went through his chest. He was wondering if he should do something with the glasses when his mother reentered the room and picked up the tray.

"Your house is big."

Drew winced again at Brody's tactlessness.

Drew's mom let out a little laugh and smiled. "Well if you don't have other plans, why don't you explore for a bit? You could even play hide and go seek if you like. I only ask that you show your friend my room and stay out of there. Let your friend choose first."

"Can we?"

Drew sighed. "Okay. I'll show you their room."

"Thank you for the tea, Drew's mom!" Brody called as they went up the stairs.

The statement brought Drew back to his other thoughts. He looked over his shoulder at the tray. She smiled and Drew smiled awkwardly back, quickly going back to what they had been doing.

After showing Brody his parents' room and letting Brody decide if he wanted to be the hider or the seeker, as his mother had suggested, Brody took off to hide and Drew turned around and began to count.

A few minutes later Brody found himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms and was excited about the prospect of hiding anywhere in the entire house when a voice interrupted him.

"Are you having fun?"

Brody jumped and turned to see Drew's mother. "Whoa." Then realizing Drew was counting, he placed a finger to his lips. "We're playing!" Brody whispered.

She laughed. "Yes, I can see you are."

Brody looked around and she stated. "Need a good place to hide?"

He was about to say that he didn't, that there were plenty of places he could hide, but he could still hear Drew counting and his nerves rose. If she could give him a really good hiding place then why not? It might be a room he hadn't seen before. "Okay."

"Follow me."

"Okay," he repeated. He was surprised when he took a step and felt his head spin. He stopped and shook his head and the spinning sensation faded.

"Alright, dear?"

"Uh…" Brody looked up and realized that he was. The feeling was gone. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

"Good to hear. Follow me."

Brody's mother quickly found him a great hiding spot on the second floor. The room was dark and he hoped that it would take Drew a minute to find him. Vaguely he heard Drew end his counting, barely a syllable through the door. It was dark and quiet and a musky-sweet smell, like a mixture of books and slightly rotting wood filling his space. Drew had to have been searching for a few minutes before the dizziness hit again, this time harder.

Brody bowed his head and brought a hand to it. The dizziness was followed by a very slight headache. He clenched his teeth, all he could do, and waited it out. It was barely a minute before it was gone and Brody was left staring at the dark shadows where his feet were in confusion. He never got headaches. Where had that come from?

Down the hallway he heard a door open and stilled himself to hide. With Drew obviously in the room he had entered it was quiet. Not even a ticking sound permeated the closet. Brody shuffled his feet and heard clearly sounds he had never paid attention to before, which only served to heighten the stillness around him.

Having shuffled enough he stopped, and again it was perfectly silent. Dust kicked up from his feet made him sneeze. Brody took a breath to calm himself, waiting to hear Drew exit the room he had been in.

"HEY!"

Brody jumped, a terrified squeak escaping his mouth in the dark. The yell had come from beside him, right in his ear, echoing the way nothing should in the small closet. He spun to face the sound and came face to face with red eyes.

Brody's body seized in fear, his eyes wide and heart falling into his stomach.

"What's a little thing like you doing in my closet?"

Brody had never felt such fear. His body completely frozen and unable to move. Slowly a hazy body began to form around the eyes. A dark body and a sick grin. Though the closet was dark the features became clearer. The skin was shining as though covered in scales and sharp teeth showed as the mouth formed and twisted into an evil smirk.

In a voice high yet abrasive, as if choking while speaking, the terrifying form whispered, "I've been waiting for a snack."

Brody shrieked. His vision went blurry and he quickly reached for the doorknob barely a foot in front of him. At first he met only wood and rubbed his hands frantically on the surface for his escape. Beside him he could feel breath on his neck and something wet dripping onto his shoulder. And then a cold laugh. The moment he felt the liquid meet his skin he screamed.

Drew jumped. Though he had never heard Brody scream, he recognized the voice. The sound shook him to his core so that it took him a moment to move. When the sound came again he bolted. Leaving the room he had been searching without care, he ran towards the scream and came to rest half a hallway down in front of a closet.

When he reached it he froze.

The voice had stopped, but it had definitely been behind the door. He could only stare in horror. That terrible sound was coming from behind the closet. A closet he now had to open to help his friend. But why was he screaming? What could be behind it to terrify him so badly?

Suddenly horrible childish thoughts began to run through his mind. What if Brody wasn't there anymore? What if something in the closet had taken him?

Some feet away he heard a clock ticking and shuddered. It was quiet. And somehow the quiet was more terrifying. Voice shaking Drew gathered his wits and whispered, "Brody?"

A second of silence and then a terrified whimper came back at him. "I-It's-I…D-Drew…Ca…Op-Please…"

Drew had never heard Brody sound so completely disorientated. He had never heard anybody sound quite like that. Such complete incoherency wasn't normal. He wondered for a second if he had ever sounded like that from behind the closet.

The thought was enough to give him the courage to take action.

Drew opened the door quickly. Instead of finding a trick from a friend, or a quickly escaping Brody, he was met by all of his childhood fears portrayed on Brody's face.

Brody was shaking, his hands behind him the only reason he hadn't collapsed completely. Looking closer Drew realized that Brody was crying. His eyes closed tightly.

The image of fear was all over Brody and it sent terror straight to Drew just to witness. "B-Brody?"

When Brody opened his eyes, it was worse. Brody still wasn't looking at him. He was looking through him, as if Drew were some evil monster. As if Drew were the thing terrifying him.

Drew swallowed and backed away, throat clenching. Brody's fear filled eyes followed him in a chilling way. "I'll…I'll get help." Drew turned and nearly tripped a few feet away as he ran headfirst into his father. Drew looked up to him and felt his stomach sink. Usually the vision of a parent would help, but for him he felt only slight relief that his father _may_ help him. Still he couldn't help in his state to lean towards the person that something inside him still wanted to believe in. He felt tears gather in his eyes. "D-Dad…"

Drew's father looked past him to the open closet and his eyes became troubled. "Drew, what happened?"

"I-I…" Drew choked and began to shake, unable to answer. He felt as if he were crying without tears or sound, choking on non-existent sobs.

His father leaned down to him and, holding him by the shoulders, asked one serious question, "Where?"

Drew stared at the floor, tears beginning to flow. "Cl-Closet," he barely whispered.

Drew's father left him and walked quickly to the closet. Drew watched his father lean in and pull Brody out. Brody's eyes remained glassy. He seemed almost like a doll as he allowed his body to be pulled whichever way his father moved him.

Drew's father grabbed him by the shoulders, much as he had done with Drew himself, then leaned down and looked between both of Brody's eyes he lifted Brody into his arms and started down the hallway.

Drew still felt numb as his father passed him. He had only made it a few paces from the closet. Looking back he realized it had opened further when his father had pulled Brody out. His eyes strayed over where the doorknob on the inside of the door should be and saw flat wood. He could only stare at it.

A few minutes later Drew joined the two in his parent's room where Brody was sitting down on the bed. Drew's father left the room quickly and returned with two glasses of tea. One for Drew and one for Brody. Drew tried on impulse get a glance of Brody's tea to compare the colors but wasn't able to as his father quickly joined Brody on the bed.

He supported Brody and lifted the tea to him, muttering, "Why don't we try some of this?" He managed to get some between Brody's unresisting lips. Then he waited. Brody remained unresponsive for some seconds, then without warning his body when stiff, eyes widening with the fear that Drew had seen in the closet. Drew didn't know what to think, then stopped trying when Brody began to cry silent tears again. As Drew's father reached for him he struggled till the man pulled him close. Then as if a barrier had been broken he clung to him tightly, the way Drew never could, and cried his heart out.

Drew wasn't sure which, from Brody's fear to the hug, was more painful to see.

A half an hour later Brody's mother arrived to pick him up. Drew was told to stay inside and watched as his father walked Brody out to his car instead of inviting his mother in. He saw Brody move close to his mother, then watched them get in their car and drive away.

When his father reentered Drew continued to stare where Brody had disappeared. There were several moments of silence. Drew didn't even take in the words his father said, stated more like a tired statement then a lecture. "I told you to wait."

Drew stared at the empty place outside their window and felt pushed to speak out without permission for the first time. "He was my friend," he whispered.

Drew would never understand the silence that followed.

A few minutes later his mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel and looked at them in surprise. "Where's Brody?"

Drew's father turned from him, glancing back once and stated, "Well… he wasn't feeling well."

"Oh, that's too bad. The poor boy."

Drew's heart suddenly hurt. He felt every muscle seize. He allowed the thought that had entered his mind since he had seen the different colored tea to grow. It hit him like a cold shower and filled his heart with angry realization at once.

She had done it.

Much like his first time speaking out, he was suddenly filled with an incredible sense of loss. A feeling, like his mother had the world on strings and didn't even know it. Like she was doing horrible things and then forgetting about it a moment later. His eyes softened, more in acceptance than sadness. The anger faded to hopelessness.

Then his mother suddenly straitened, as if remembering something. Behind his back she blinked several times, then shook her head. Glancing at her husband then looking to Drew she watched him stare out the window. In a much calmer voice then she had used moments ago she stated, "Drew, why did you lie to me?"

Drew froze and turned to face his mother, who only looked back with concern.

That was the end of it...

Drew knew that he had already been punished.

* * *

He was aware that the next day at school would be a nightmare. He didn't know what would happen and that terrified him. He allowed himself to hope, hope that Brody would forgive him. Because Drew knew it was his fault, though he didn't understand quite how. It had something to do with him taking Brody to his house. Brody would know that. He knew Brody would blame him. And after the look on Brody's face, he didn't know why he was hoping.

The small flame was buried underneath what he knew would most likely be the truth. Brody wouldn't be his friend anymore. Brody wouldn't play with him, he wouldn't invite him to his house, and he most definitely would never be coming to Drew's house again.

But Brody didn't come to school.

Drew didn't know what to do. The very thought caused him to panic as he tried to figure out _why_ Brody wasn't at school.

Would he ever come back?

Two days later he did, in the middle of class.

Drew sat up strait in his chair and stared with wide eyes as Brody entered the room and the teacher introduced him back to the class. Drew's hope faded to a dimming ember as Brody walked straight to his seat, not looking at him once.

Drew felt his heart break, along with all of his dying hopes of friendship.

Drew was surprised when Brody asked him to talk later that day. Drew, for reasons he was unsure of, pulled the pocket watch Brody had given him from his backpack and brought it with him. It had become a source of courage for him, a comforting weight of something he liked from someone who liked him. Proof that somebody really cared about him. He wondered if Brody would want it back now.

Brody and Drew snuck into an unused classroom. Drew turned to face Brody and found him looking nervously away and twisting his hands together, something that Brody had never done before. Drew tried to clear his mind of the crazed thoughts running ramped.

"My mom doesn't want me playing with you anymore."

The one sentence was more painful than anything he had ever heard. He swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Brody whispered, "I… I don't understand. It was so scary. Her voice sounded weird when she hid me, like fuzzy. And I saw monsters… and…"

Drew saw tears gather in Brody's eyes and felt his jaw stiffen.

In a hushed whisper Brody whispered, "Your… Your mom's kind of scary."

Drew's shoulders stiffened. He could do nothing but stare quietly ahead.

"I'm real sorry." In a whisper Brody continued, "She scares me. Your house-it scares me."

Drew swallowed around it again, finding that this time it hurt. But now it was time to talk. Only one phrase would come to mind. "I understand," he whispered.

Brody raised his head and stared back in wonder. "You do?"

Drew nodded and looked away. It was a small mercy in his heart, that made him understand exactly what Brody was saying-something he couldn't judge. "She scares me too," he admitted.

A moment of silence later Brody looked down and found Drew holding the silver chain. He muttered, "You can keep the watch…"

Drew looked down to the watch and wrapped both his hands tightly around it.

He continued to grip it as his lifeline till Brody had left the room, and as an extension, him, for the last time.

* * *

May saw the boy she had recently proclaimed her friend exit the principles office and raised her hand to wave. It was awkward, but they had said that they were friends and so May had decided to at least say hi and try to be friends.

When he turned she paused, hand still in the air. Drew looked exhausted, like before but worse. She wasn't sure what to do. And then she remembered.

They were friends.

"Drew!"

Drew turned dully to her as she ran up to him and placed her hands behind her back, bending over to look at his face. "Are you okay?"

Drew stared at the floor and didn't answer her, much like when they had first met. Except this time May could tell that there was something behind it. Concern swept her face.

Two children ran behind them laughing, the only sound that broke the silence. They were scolded some ways down the hall by a teacher, but neither May nor Drew turned. It hardly mattered.

"What happened?" May whispered.

Drew glanced up at her with a knowledge sinking fully into him for the first time: He would never have any friends. It wasn't worth getting them hurt, and it wasn't worth the pain in his chest. In his pocket he felt the watch and wanted to throw it. The sudden angry emotion was something he had never experienced before. His fingers skimmed his pocket and he frowned. Then he looked back to the floor. "Nothing," he muttered.

May's expression grew more troubled. "But-" she started as Drew began to pass her.

"Don't worry about it," he whispered. Then still walking he stated a little louder, "I'm not your problem anymore… and we're not friends."

May flinched.

* * *

Drew came back to school the next day fully expecting to be on his own. And he was, for a while.

Until a week and a half later when May set her backpack on his desk.

Drew blinked and looked up at her. The class had split up to work on projects. Everyone else had already moved to join their friends and classmates.

Drew hadn't even tried.

Drew stared at her, barely changing his expression before looking back to his desk and pulling a piece of paper, his project, out from under her backpack.

"You haven't moved," May stated after a moment.

Drew looked pointedly at the paper in his hand. "I don't need anyone's help. It's an easy project."

There weren't too many things one could say to that. Drew was right, it was an easy project. May continued to watch him, wondering what to say as he stared fixedly on his paper without really reading it. The fact that he wasn't actually reading was something that May caught, and it made up her mind for her.

"May?" a boy asked from across the room.

"Join us?" May asked.

Drew looked up to her, then glanced across the room to her group. A pain hit him hard. He tried to answer but nothing came out. Looking back to the paper to hide his emotion, he shook his head "no."

May let out a breath of sadness.

"May!"

She gave him a half smile and walked back to her group.

Drew ignored the longing he felt as he refused the advances of someone who wanted his attention. The feeling was buried under a numbing acceptance, and it faded.

Or he pretended it did.

She didn't give up.

May spent the next few weeks asking him to join whatever group she was with every time he was alone. She waved in the halls and smiled every time they were near. Drew was trying to ignore it, but it was hard. Hard to want something so badly and send it away with a cold shoulder because he couldn't even begin to explain why he was turning her away.

It was slowly driving him crazy.

Each smile made his heart hurt. Each wave caused him to remind himself that there was no waving back, and then to ask himself when he had come to want to make such a childish action. And then there was the undercurrent of annoyance. May had to know what she was doing. He wasn't responding to her. It was obvious that he didn't want her as a friend, but she waved anyway.

And that was somehow infuriating.

The next time she waved he stared back, this time in obvious annoyance. May faltered but put a forced smile on her face instead.

When she smiled at him a day later as she entered class Drew buried his head behind his textbook and ground his teeth.

This went on… and on… until one day Drew snapped.

But not in the way he had been expecting.

May approached him, at lunch this time. Drew was sitting a fair distance away, so nobody would really care to overhear him, but he was hardly thinking of that and surprised May when he spoke first.

"Why?" he asked as she walked up.

May stopped and pulled a foot up. For a moment she was so taken aback that she didn't know what to do. "Why what?"

"Why do you want me as your friend?" he expounded. Though he hated it, his voice broke. Why was she so determined to be friends with him? It felt like a cruel joke, that now when he had accepted he couldn't have friends that someone would want him. He couldn't help but project those feelings onto May.

May looked into his eyes, eyes that for once showed true emotion and tilted her head downwards. May was quiet when she stated, "Cause I like you."

Drew looked up at her slowly. For a moment he only stared at her, absorbing a phrase he had never before heard and unsure what to think of it.

"_I like you?" _When had he ever given her reason to like him? Why, out of the crowd of people, had she chosen him? The questions faded under the weight of the words. _"I like you." _Brody had never said it so boldly. And thinking on that, when he was bored Brody ran to other people to entertain him.

Drew shook his head. He couldn't think of that.

May watched him shake his head and giggled lightly. "Even if you are a pain."

Drew paused in the motion of shaking his head and looked at the floor. He couldn't help it and didn't know why the small smile was pulling at his mouth. "Ironic coming from you."

May huffed. Drew realized how insulting it sounded when she made the sound. Moments ago it had only been fact. "I'm not annoying! This is what friends do!" Then to his surprise she plopped down beside him, still with the same frustrated expression and muttered in annoyance, "Really…."

The word, stated in that way, she had to have heard from some adult, but it brought a smile to Drew's face. He looked at his shoulder, where May's practically touched. He knew that he couldn't do it again. They couldn't be friends. Despite that, a warm feeling began to blossom in his chest. The smallest of warmth in an otherwise bitter existence.

He couldn't send her away, not when he finally was pulled from a sea of sadness, but he couldn't reach back to her either. In the end he pulled out his lunch and didn't say a word. Having her sit beside him, even if they weren't friends, somehow, made everything fade away.

And so it started. It wasn't quite a friendship. Not to Drew. He didn't respond very much, he just didn't send her away. He consoled himself easily. They weren't friends, and May would never know… anything.

Because they weren't friends.

May might not have stuck around if she had known that they "weren't friends." But she didn't. Drew often wondered what was going on in her mind. She always greeted him with a smile, even when he didn't offer one back. She was practically angelic.

Drew learned very quickly that despite her sweetness it was very easy to pull her temper out. He hardly had to poke fun at her before she would crinkle her nose and ball her fists. Instead of making him want to stop he found himself speaking more and more to her, mostly in sarcasm.

It wasn't much a jump from speaking sarcastically to sometimes allow himself to speak honestly, though he never spoke of his home life. A mental wall would appear if she ever asked him a question on the subject. Drew put a mental wall up to bar quite a few facts. Like the fact that May was always around him, wherever he went. Like the fact that he enjoyed her company and the fact that there was something about her he couldn't name. They spent all their time together.

And they still weren't friends.

It was in their next year of school, after summer break that May learned that Drew walked home. After the break of not seeing each other for so long, Drew wasn't quite sure what to do when May ran up to him instantly. When he saw her he stopped and stood still. The summer with nobody but his parents had reminded him that he didn't have friends. For a moment a worry hit him, of what he should do or how he should respond. He was surprised how naturally he fell back into the regular spin of things when May simply resumed where they had left off.

May's parents decided that she was finally old enough and allowed her to walk home if she walked with someone else, and that worked just fine with her.

Drew told himself that she was only tagging along. He wasn't walking her anywhere. It was the same mental state he had had all of the last year. He didn't realize till they reached his house what he might be setting himself up for. Suddenly memories flashed in front of him of Brody staring at him with fear and the very real knowledge of who had probably done that to him, completely unable to prove. Drew told her goodbye firmly in the end, and went home. He told himself that he didn't feel bad about leaving her outside, staring at his back.

The next few times they came by his house he would simply speed up as they got closer and pull into himself. It worked for a while.

Then one day May stopped at his house.

Drew knew he should have expected it, but now that it had come he didn't know what to do.

He was surprised at himself, confused at his own relief when his mother decided to keep him home for a while. Her reasoning was spoken like a thought of something unimportant, simply that the girl that had stopped by might not be the best sort to hang out with. He would just have to stay home for a few days. He would find something to do in that time, she reassured him. It would be just like having more summer break.

Drew didn't understand. For the first time he wanted to cry, or yell, or scream. Why didn't she want him to have friends? Why did she insist on trying to make him happy with her words and then tear him to pieces with her actions?

What was wrong with him, with them?

Was this going to be his life forever?

In the end he settled for his one consolation: It was him. His punishment. Not May's.

That was enough. For then.

* * *

Drew did what his mother had suggested and spent the next week much like his summer break: alone. He spent a lot of time thinking about what he would do if he could, and other time spent doing what his parents suggested, from poor piano to reading boring books.

On the second day his father brought his school supplies home, and Drew began to drown himself in the books. With no other distraction, they worked his mind and kept him occupied. But when he wasn't reading he was filled with a conflicting bitterness he couldn't dispel. By the end of the week he was sick, and he could see his father's confusion as he hadn't been around any sicknesses to start with. His mother tucked him in and came up to see him constantly. His confusion only mounted at her sudden attention, a conflicting emotion that made him feel even more sick every time she placed her hand on his head or brought him something to eat. They were small moments, but moments he could almost believe were normal, if they would last-if they weren't buried under his hurt at her every other action.

Four days later he sat up in bed feeling much better and almost wishing that he wasn't. His mother went back to staying downstairs and he was left again with nothing to do. He still sniffled and was still tired, luckily tired enough to sleep away much of the feelings.

Drew was pulling his blankets out of the closet and refolding them as he had been asked to when a severe coughing fit hit him. He fell to the blankets, holding tightly to his throat. As the coughing faded his body told him how tired it was and he fell asleep. It was something he had done before, from inside the closet, and so his mind simply accepted it and he let himself sleep where he was.

It was that night, a week and a half into his school absence, that Drew was woken by a quiet, sweet voice saying his name.

Drew's eyes fluttered open. He blinked rapidly and sat up, rubbing at one of his eyes and looking to the ground in confusion as he realized where he had fallen asleep. He hit the edge of the doorframe as he came up and hissed. His hiss was followed by a knock on his door and a whispered, "Drew?"

Drew blinked and stared at the door, trying to wrap his mind around what was happening in his tired state. Was that… May's voice? Nobody knocked on his door, they just walked in. And if that was May, where were his parents?

Why would someone risk his house to knock on his door?

The question didn't make much sense logically but in Drew's depressed mindset it expressed his feelings perfectly. Why would someone come to his house and risk so much to see him? Who would be crazy enough to? He had never expected to hear anybody knock on his door. Not ever. His heart slowed as he focused on this thought. Nobody was ever going to knock on his door. Nobody was ever going to come to his house. Not for him.

And here they were.

"Drew? It's May," came her whispered voice.

Drew's heart jumped into his throat. In a flurry of motion he would have never expected from himself he jumped from the floor and unwrapped his legs, nearly tripping in his hurry to reach the door (as if to reaffirm what his ears were telling him that couldn't be true-_it just couldn't be true_).

Drew flung open the door and was met with May.

Only May.

Everything was quiet in his mind as he took her in, May, standing outside his door, in his house.

He wasn't expecting to be hit. His complete shock caused him to fall back into his room. Drew blinked rapidly and looked up from the floor numbly, not knowing how to feel. Drew watched tears rise in her eyes. Her teeth clenched and she shut her eyes to exclaim in a high voice, "You jerk!"

Drew could only stare with wide eyes.

"We're supposed to be friends. That means when you're gone from school for two weeks you call me so I don't worry about you! That's one of the first rules!"

"_We're supposed to be friends!"_

Drew swallowed. But … he had decided… they weren't friends…. He flinched at the thought.

Suddenly he was surrounded by May as she dropped to the floor in front of him and grabbed his shirt with both hands, ducking her head somewhere above them. He jumped as real tears hit him and soaked through shirt. She yelled, with real emotion, "You're so stupid!"

Drew felt like she had broken something within him with those words. But maybe something that needed to break.

He had only ever heard his parents tell him how the world should be. He had never had friend to counteract them or adult figures to take his hand.

And now, here was May, telling him that he was stupid when he was only doing what his parents had told him to do.

A flame lit. He had thought it before, but then it had been only him, him alone. Now it was both of them, and she was right.

May continued to hold tight to him. As the chaos in his head began to fade he raised tentative hands to reciprocate and grabbed her shoulders. A strange feeling blossomed in his chest, something he couldn't describe, warmed somehow by her tears for him.

May's voice hitched with a sob when she turned out from her hands enough to ask tearfully, "Why didn't you call me?"

Drew looked down at her, feeling the awkwardness still very apparent but fading under new emotions. For some reason, a reason he would never know, he felt a smile pull at his mouth. "May…" he started. "I don't have your number."

May sniffled and Drew continued to watch her carefully. "That's no excuse!"

Drew's smile spread. He rolled his eyes and then began to realize that she wasn't letting up. "You're getting my shirt all wet." May only held on tighter. Drew sighed and resigned himself to more crying even as something in his heart began to soar, lifting above the feelings that had been clouding him for so long.

May asked him about where he had been and his sickness. Drew did his best to leave out the details he didn't want to mention. Drew was shocked when May pushed him back on his bed and announced that she would be taking care of him. His heart beat quicker in an almost desperate wish for it while he suddenly realized that she was in his house. He thought of his mother placing her hand on his head and ignored the way his mind reached for it and begged him to accept the feeling of being cared for again. Mentally he shut it down. He wasn't a child… and he didn't need it anymore.

Besides, it wasn't safe.

"You can't."

May frowned in confusion. "Why not?"

Drew felt emotion begin to rise in his throat. Vaguely he thought of Brody. "Look, you just… you have to go home. I want you here but… just not today. Okay?"

May asked him why she couldn't. When he said that it was because he got sick, she countered stating that this was the first week of school he had missed. More evidence of her attention to him caused him to come up short. When Drew ran out of replies May looked around the room and commented on how clean it was, causing Drew to scoff with a bitterness that May wouldn't understand.

After noticing that the closet was a mess and his sheets were clean Drew winced. His eyes glanced to the blankets and he wanted to go over to fold them. Before he could, May started across the room. Drew yelled out, panic hitting him when she opened the closet and turned to the right, then confusion coating her voice, pointed out the dresses.

It was as if time had slowed. Drew didn't know what to say to her or how to explain it. May turned to him in confusion and Drew fell back on the bed with a sigh.

"Drew?" she asked.

For the first time Drew explained it, as he saw it.

It was strangely relieving. While he had been dreading it the words simply flowed, blocked for too long. And May only stared in curios horror at his mother's actions and never once connected them to him.

In the end to describe it Drew had stated what he had always wondered, _"She's sick." _The moment the words left his mouth he suddenly realized that they were true. This wasn't just his thought. May looked at him with such shock over things he told her that only scratched the surface.

His mother was sick. It wasn't him at all.

Drew sent May home soon after that, but not for the same reason he had wanted her to leave before. Somehow he knew, just from her reactions, that their friendship would not end like his and Brody's. May didn't connect him and his mother at all, something that was incredible to Drew but so honestly all over her face. He still wanted her to be safe, but he wasn't sending her away for him, for their friendship, it was just to keep his mother from hurting her.

Later, after May was gone, Drew kneeled down and began to pull out his blankets and slowly fold them. As he did he pulled a chain, finding at the end a silver pocket watch, gleaming from the night light filtering through his shades.

Drew stared at it for several moments. For what seemed like such a long time, it had been his only proof of any form of love. It had been the only happy thing in his life, and even after Brody left him Drew wasn't able to part from the joy of the memories it brought back to him.

Now it wasn't the same. Though still sweet, he had found something sweeter. Better than a memory. Better than an inanimate object. He had found love, love that he hadn't imagined to weather the pain. Real love. For the first time.

Drew smiled to himself, perhaps the first true smile in years, and placed the pocket watch back in the corner of his closet, folding the blankets and placing them one by one on top of it. When he was done he stood without a backward glance and shut the closet, then shuffled to his bed and climbed in. As he did he heard the downstairs door open and knew that his parents were home.

As their voices filled the house, he was for the first time able to filter them out and escape to his own thoughts without stress. He thought of Brody, of everything he had wished for. May would always be there, he realized. He didn't know how he knew, he just did. She wasn't going to leave him. Brody was gone, but that was okay, because now…he had May.

They _were_ friends.

And this friendship was real.

Half asleep, Drew looked to the closet again. He thought of his mother's reaction when she had found the dress and his father's reaction when he had seen the pile.

He thought of May.

The feeling came back, the sickness in his stomach at what was hidden behind the closet. Again, he thought of May.

He wasn't sure what it was about the subject of his thoughts that gave him the courage to get out of bed and again go through the closet, pulling down the dresses. This time he put them in his sleeping bag, something he never used and never would. There was plenty of space up top so he pushed it down and bundled the pile into his arms. Then he crawled back into bed and waited till he heard his parent's doors close.

That night Drew carried the bag outside and placed it in the nearly empty trash bin by the street.

As he started back up the stairs to his bed, as quietly as possible, his heart beat at a vicious pace. He feared the repercussions would be terrible. He didn't know what they would be but both of his parents would be on the same side (judging by his father's reaction). The very thought caused a deep panic in his chest.

He had always wanted them gone. He didn't know what it was that made it worth it, but he knew that it had something to do with May.

Somehow, now he knew that he could deal with it.

And that was enough. For now.


	16. Home

**A/N Yo! Sorry for the wait. :) I don't have much to say about this chapter but would like to thank everyone for their feedback on the last chapter (as well as the couple of people that sent me private messages about it-thank you!). After finishing the last chapter, I had a really hard time moving from the emotion of that to the normalcy of this chapter. It's the biggest reason this took so long to update. It took a lot out of me to write the last chapter. For those of you who are authors, this was my first experience with heightened/intense emotions as a result of my own writing. I've been pleasantly surprised by the feedback of received from those who have experienced the same thing and told me that it was a good thing. Thank you for that, it helped. I'll try to update more frequently now**

**This chapter does, admittedly not move on to much with the story, but it is necessary and I hope you enjoy it. There's still a bit more to learn about our characters before the real drama hits and the "villains arrive."**

**Thank you for your feedback and reviews. I'd love to hear more from you, and I appreciate it!**

* * *

Drew woke up the next day feeling drained. He had always had a difficult time getting to sleep, but the night before, with so many memories running through his head, he had slept lightly. Turning he sighed.

And still it was four AM.

Drew sighed and left his bed, making it behind him, and headed to the joined bathroom. The sun was just barely coming up and set a soft glow over the two rooms. After he had finished prepping for the day, instead of doing something to distract himself, he went back to his parent's room and sat on the bed. He still was feeling overwhelmed at the memories, key memories that had helped in making him who he was. Vaguely he thought of the day before, when he and May had gone through his closet and frowned. The pocket watch was still there. He had never moved it.

What did that say about his "progress?"

On the other hand, he had let go, and was it really so bad to keep a memory that meant so much to him? No, he didn't think it was.

Drew sighed and leaned back on the bed, head falling back fully as he looked at the ceiling. His mind began to stray as he made shapes with the swirling designs above him.

His mind strayed to thoughts of everything he had faced in the last couple of days. He tried to take courage in it, to think of it as a success rather than embarrassment to have issues that others wouldn't understand in the first place.

He was making progress. It was good. In the back of his mind he could see an endless path laid out before him. Progress that may never end. "Progress"… a word he hated. A word that filled him with stress and pride at once.

It was the pride he focused on. He had done it. It had been hard. And it was enough for now. He would let Victor make supply his next move.

He didn't want to make the decision himself this time.

A few minutes later Drew walked down to the kitchen, which in comparison to the rest of the house was rather small, and began to pull out breakfast. He thought about how everybody he knew was still asleep and still would be for the next couple of hours or so. It had always been a strange feeling. But if he was honest with himself it was a good feeling too-like he was alone with the world with time to think and no pressure.

It wasn't until he had sat everything on the table that he realized he was forgetting something. He sighed, resting one hand on his side and raising the other scratch sleepily at the back of his hair. While trying to figure out what it was he was missing, staring at the table intently, his mind wandered. His body stilled and he watched as two extra plates appeared on the table and mentally his mother and father began to form in chairs in front of them.

He shook his head and glared at the table. Quickly he turned from it and to distract himself looked back to the kitchen. What was it he was missing? He thought of what he had laid out, a basic egg breakfast. Was it water?

His brow furrowed as he began to wake more and realized how ridiculous he was being. What did it matter what he was missing? It was just breakfast.

He filled himself a glass of water and sat down at the empty table, in the far too large dining room. He couldn't help taking a moment to stare at the glass of water before eating, ignoring the silence that had become only too normal.

* * *

"How are you?"

Drew shrugged. "Good, I guess." He sat in the chair without a care, without being invited. The meetings were becoming normal, natural even.

"How have the last few days been?" Drew looked up to the ceiling while Victor sat beside him and sipped another coffee. "Feel free," Victor added, gesturing to the extra cup.

Drew dropped his head and turned back to Victor and the cup. He took it without complaint. "Thanks."

Victor nodded. "So, your week?"

"Nothing to mention, honestly." Drew looked a bit guilty at the words, but also knew in some part of his mind that it was just fine. "I… needed a break."

Victor nodded. "That's understandable."

Somehow it was comforting to hear that.

"You've made a lot of progress. It's not surprising that your mind would need to take a break. But…" Drew watched carefully as Victor set the cup down. "But you will want to continue making progress. Regressing is natural as well. What's your next plan?"

"Well, um… I was thinking you might have a plan for that, actually."

Victor blinked, looking honestly surprised for the first time Drew had ever seen him so. It made him want to laugh, but Victor went on before he could. He smiled. "Alright then. Let's see…." He sighed and shifted further into the chair, looking up to the ceiling. "How about we breach the dresses right now? I don't think that will take long. And then we move on to your father. Think you can do that?"

Drew didn't know how Victor had come to the conclusion that talking about the dresses would be a short discussion, but he was right. The idea though, of facing both at the same time, was a little overwhelming. He wasn't sure why. Out of everything he had been through, they were the two subjects that he really didn't understand, so why were they making him so uncomfortable?

Drew shifted and sighed then realized Victor was still waiting. Thinking of Victor's ending question he gathered his wits and nodded. "I think I can do that."

Victor nodded softly. "Good." He set his coffee down, and Drew automatically followed, feeling the sudden change in the air. With a breath Victor placed his hands on either side of him and looked at Drew calmly with his calculating eyes. "So let's start with the dresses. Any thoughts?"

Drew swallowed. He thought hard for a moment, then finally muttered, "Well, I didn't like it if that answers your question."

"Why not?"

Drew bit his lip. "Uh… Well…" He turned away, a hidden blush starting. "It's embarrassing."

"Why?"

Drew tried not to be annoyed when the question came back to him. His emotions were rising, making him want to sweep the issue under the table and move on. He realized quickly that Victor was just trying to help him and took a stabilizing breath, not wanting to answer the obvious question. "Because it's not normal."

"And why is it embarrassing if it's not normal?"

Drew shrugged. "It just is," he muttered.

"But why?"

The question struck something in him. Drew turned back to Victor and began to fade out as he stared at him, his vision going distant. After a moment of silence Drew realized the right answer, the one that made it hard for him. "Because people judge you for it. It doesn't matter if you chose it or if you want it. They just do." Victor only stared back so Drew swallowed and pushed on, feeling the emotion begin to rise and push the words out for him, even as he hated it. "And people don't want to help a kid that has something twisted in his life." He glanced away. "They have nothing against saving someone who's getting hit and has bruises to prove it, but hand them a kid with dresses in his closet and they'll watch it happen right in front of them and do nothing. What happens to your mind doesn't matter to other people. It makes them uncomfortable, so they ignore it. I was raised around adults that always told you to go for help if you're getting hurt, but it's all a lie…." And then a bitter phrase came from his mouth. Something he had thought time and time again as a child that had never completely faded but never been vocalized. It came in a hushed whisper. "Nobody really cares." Swallowing he continued, "They help you if it's convenient for them. And if it's not you've put your life or sanity on the line for nothing."

Victor waited a few more moments then said softly. "Was anybody willing to help you?"

It was an awkward question with an easy answer. Drew looked to him with a slightly twisted smile and stated, "I helped myself."

The answer was unspoken between them. No, nobody had helped him, so Drew had emancipated himself. Perhaps years too late to rectify some of the damage.

"Did you ever ask for help?" Victor asked, feeling curious.

Drew stilled and looked away. "Well… not in so many words."

"Then how were they to know to help you?"

Drew's eyes narrowed, staring at a non-existent form on the ground. "They knew," he whispered. "They all knew, they just didn't care."

Victor felt pushed to ask another question. "Why do you think they didn't help?"

Drew paused. "Because… Because it was inconvenient. Because they didn't care. Not enough." He wasn't trying to sound juvenile, but the thoughts were there, and he wasn't sure how else to put them.

"Your parents were wealthy?"

Drew nodded.

"Could they afford then, a good lawyer?"

Drew stilled and nodded shakily.

"My thoughts are that some people may have not wanted to go up against that."

Drew stared away thoughtfully then shook his head. "You're probably right, but it just comes back to it not being convenient. I could've testified against them. It would have been enough." Drew's fists began to tighten in his lap.

"And how were they to know that you would follow through? Some children don't."

Drew looked back with disgust seeping into his expression. "Why would anyone throw themselves back into a life they hate when they have a chance to get away?"

Victor paused. He could see a bit of where Drew was coming from now. Drew was a very self-reliant soul, probably partially due to a childhood of caring emotionally for himself. He had emancipated himself, so if given the chance to get away, he would have taken it. But it wasn't the same for all children.

"They're scared," Victor answered patiently.

Drew blinked. For once he allowed himself to speak freely. "But that doesn't make sense. How could they be too afraid to pull themselves away from something that caused nothing _but_ fear?"

Victor heard the clock ticking behind them as the room became quiet. Finally he answered thoughtfully. "That's the irony of fear, isn't it? Fear consumes you. When you're afraid you aren't thinking of the future, you're just thinking of what's right in front of you.

"It's the mindset that makes the most stupid of decisions."

Drew stared back blankly, absorbing the words. There was something behind it, something in the tone or meaning itself that Drew was trying to wrap his mind around. What was it? Drew felt his agitation rising. He looked down to the coffee and picked it up. Seeing that he was done Victor went on.

"Anything else concerning them?"

Drew paused with the cup at his lips and lowered it a tad. "Not really. Once um…Once she tried to put them on me, but my dad…my dad didn't like that. So it didn't happen again."

"Your father didn't let it happen?"

Drew shook his head, looking away and taking another sip.

"Why do you think that was?"

Drew paused and shrugged.

"No idea?"

Drew shook his head, still drinking.

Victor frowned thoughtfully. "You implied once that your father never stopped the abuse."

Drew froze with the cup still at his mouth.

"So was this the one time he did, or did I misunderstand?"

Drew continued to look past his cup then slowly dropped it. He had known this was coming, but he really hadn't wanted to talk about it. "It just made him uncomfortable I think, so he stopped it. I mean… his wife was dressing his son like a girl so… It was just that, I think."

The entire conversation was sending Drew's stomach into uncomfortable spasms.

Victor nodded. Usually he wouldn't ask a question like this so soon. It was easy, while still filled with bitterness, for someone to _want_ to hate the parent that had caused them pain. Because of this, the question would in most cases be shot down immediately. But most of Drew's problems were with his mother. And so he asked, almost out of curiosity. "Have you considered the idea that he really did care?"

Drew blinked and didn't answer for several seconds, as if the question had been asked in a language he only vaguely understood. Victor came to the conclusion that this was something Drew wasn't sure how to consider. So ingrained into him was another idea, that he couldn't understand how Victor's question could be possible. As Drew continued to stare Victor moved on.

"What was your relationship with your father like?"

Drew blinked again, this time turning slowly to look back at the floor. Thoughtfully he paused then shook his head as if waking from a dream. "Um…" Victor let him gather himself. Finally Drew sighed and stated. "We really didn't have one."

"A relationship?"

Drew nodded.

"What was he like?"

"Um… He was-uh…" Drew let out a breath of frustration.

Victor was intrigued by Drew's responses. Usually a child would immediately have something to say about a parent they had a bad relationship with. And if not, they would be too scared to speak, and so their answer would come out sporadic like Drew's.

But Drew wasn't scared. He seemed honestly confused, like he hadn't known his father at all.

"Did he work?"

Drew looked up in surprise at the harmless question. He nodded. "Yeah. My father was a doctor, and he inherited a lot of money from his parents when they died."

The money wasn't what Victor was trying to get at, but he let that be. "How late did he work?"

"Um… Well, it depended. Usually around six, but sometimes they would need him more often, or he would work early and have the evening off."

Victor paused for a moment.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Quickly Victor shook his head lightly and smiled. "Nothing. So how often was he home when you were?"

"Most of the time. He usually got home not long after I got back from school. Two hours at the most."

Victor nodded. "Did you ever spend time together?"

Drew bit his lip. "Um, well no. Not really."

So it was this then. It wasn't that Drew had a bad relationship with his father. He had no relationship with his father. Nothing to talk about or come back to. He didn't even seem to have much emotion about their lack of relationship.

"I've asked you this question before…" Victor started carefully.

Drew nodded.

"…Did your father abuse you?"

Drew stilled. He was so quiet that Victor expected the exact opposite of the response he received.

"No."

Victor was trying to choose how to proceed when Drew stated.

"But he didn't need to."

Victor asked calmly, "What do you mean by that?"

Drew let out a small breath. "He didn't help either."

Victor nodded. This was where the heartache came in for Drew. Their lack of a relationship, or most of it, had to have lied with his father's lack of effort. "I see," he stated.

Drew shuffled uncomfortably. That was all there really was to say about his father. It left him feeling empty but unsure as to how to continue.

"What was his response when your mother tried to dress you?"

Drew looked down and thought about it. He took a calming breath to help himself start. "He yelled. When…When he came in the room. I only heard him talk angrily twice. He was always really calm, like he didn't care about anything. I think we were both surprised-me and my mom. After that he took her to a different room…. That was it really."

'That was it,' was obviously a rather intense experience for him, but Victor let him be. It was interesting, in its own way, that it didn't sound like his father had given him any recognition at the time. He imagined the two of them had left the room, and left a child alone to try and work out on his own what he had just experienced.

"Did your father ever talk to you about the experience?"

Drew shook his head.

Victor understood now. Whether Drew's father had known it or not, his abuse had been there-hiding behind his lack of attention.

But still… it was interesting….

"Drew…" Drew looked back to him as Victor continued thoughtfully. "How old were you?"

"Um… I'm not sure. Really young. Six or so."

Victor pursed his lips and stared past him. "Interesting…" he muttered.

"What's interesting?" Drew asked, feeling suddenly uprooted with Victor's words.

Victor turned back to him. "Nothing really."

Drew wasn't sure how to take that.

"Six years old. Did he acknowledge you at all when he entered the room?"

Drew blinked, then strained to remember the experience. "Well, he looked at me when he saw my mom with the dress… but after that… no. Not that I remember."

"Was your mom holding the dress at the time?"

Drew nodded.

"What did he do with the dress?"

"Nothing. He just pulled her out of the room."

"Without acknowledging you? With all of his attention on her?"

Drew glared at the memory and nodded.

Victor stared back quietly for another moment while Drew went through the memory again. "That had to have been difficult," he finally stated. "He should have talked to you about the experience. There are only so many ways a child can take such an incident."

Drew looked back to him and considered the words. He wasn't sure he liked the last sentence. It implied that how he now thought of it had been developed when he was child, and he wasn't sure that was true.

"What did you think about afterwards?"

Drew shrugged. "It's all kind of a blur."

Knowing that in this case the memory may have been reduced to emotion, Victor asked, "How did you feel?"

Drew paused. He still didn't like talking about how things made him feel. Normally he could talk about his feelings to some degree, but not with things like this, not when it made him feel… wrong. "I felt…" the word itself stopped him, but with the first part of the sentence left he only had one more to add. Quietly he searched his thoughts and came up with one word to describe his entire mindset as he watched them walk away without a backward glance, without a word to him. "…alone," he finished in a whisper.

Victor nodded. He knew that Drew would need to be done with the conversation soon. Calmly he asked what he felt needed to be said at least once. "How do you feel about _him_?"

Drew stilled, and stared at his shoes.

"You can be honest. It's necessary in healing."

Drew flinched and looked away. "I…"

Victor thought quickly. "How did you feel around him?"

It was the third time "feel" had been used to ask him about something he wasn't sure how to respond to as a child, let alone as an adult. "Around him…" Drew muttered. "Around him… lonely. Lonely sometimes. He completely ignored me, honestly. And other times… other times nothing. He was quiet. He just faded away. Even when he was there, he wasn't there."

Victor wondered if Drew had come to accept that his father wasn't going to be giving him attention and so buried the need for it. It would explain the numb feeling in his father's presence. Acceptance of negativities were often numbing, but beneath the numbness was almost always anger, distress or hatred.

Victor paused. "How do you feel about him now?"

Drew's hands started to fidget, but he quickly stopped himself as the question turned to him. "Now?" he whispered. "Still nothing."

Victor had to wonder if there was still some emotion hiding beneath that barrier.

* * *

Victor was just closing the box on his desk when, much like the previous week, his door opened of its own accord.

Victor turned and his eyes widened when he saw Victoria walk in.

"Victoria…" Without a thought he dropped the coat and started over to her. "Are you alright?" He asked.

He usually didn't ask so bluntly, but this wasn't a session.

Victoria stood in front of the door and nodded shyly. "I'm sorry to come," she said in a light voice. "I just… I thought I might have caused trouble for you. Someone said my father sent people to look for me. And you… you're my…" She flinched and looked away.

Neither one of them needed to finish what he was.

He nodded softly. "It's alright. It wasn't any trouble." Then referencing her father, he stated, "He was looking for his daughter. Where were you, if I might ask?"

"I…I was at my boyfriend's house."

Victor blinked. He had noticed the hesitance.

It was his job to notice the hesitance.

He knew they weren't in a session. He shouldn't ask.

Victor turned his head and raised an eyebrow. "And before that?"

Victoria's eyes widened. "Ah…" She bit her lip and looked away. "Nowhere."

"Nowhere?" Victor asked softly.

She flinched and looked away. "Sorry," she muttered. "It's just…." She swallowed, suddenly looking thoroughly embarrassed and nervous. "I don't want you to think I'm crazy…"

Victor stared at her. "What happened?" he asked softly.

Victoria blinked and turned back to him. Seeing his firm curiosity she sighed and glanced away. "I-uh…" One more nervous glance and she shrugged with a pained smile. "I don't know…."

Instantly Victor looked confused. That didn't sound like it connected to any of her issues. Looking at her intently he asked, "What _do_ you know?"

Victor watched her swallow. "I was going to go home, after that I don't remember what happened. I woke up the next morning outside his house."

It could have been her. It was the most logical solution. She had issues, and she would know to go to her boyfriend's house for comfort. Her mind could have blocked an experience. But what experience? And though it may be logical to a psychologist, Victor knew that wasn't like her.

There were other solutions. Things she had considered and blocked as too much when the ideas came. Had she been drugged? But when? And by whom? Who would know to take her to her boyfriend's house?

"Your boyfriend. Did he take you to the hospital?"

"Um, no."

Victor frowned. "Did he tell anyone where you were or what had happened?"

Victoria looked guilty. "He didn't think of it. I didn't know what had happened, and when he did think of it… I didn't want him to tell."

Victor looked at her with worry. "Why?"

"Because…Because I didn't know what had happened. I was-I was afraid…"

Victor suddenly accepted it all. _This_ sounded like Victoria. His automated response came back. "I understand," he stated.

Victoria smiled a small smile.

"I'm glad you're alright." He continued to look at her a moment longer. In the silence his eyes began to stray. He quickly shook himself and looked at the clock. "You should go home. Do you have a ride?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded happily, "Ryder's here with me."

Ryder, her boyfriend. Victor nodded.

As she turned to go he watched a moment longer, then turned to get his coat. He was almost finished pulling it on when he thought of something else.

He stopped and turned thoughtfully. "Victoria?"

She paused and looked back in surprise.

'_I was going to go home…'_

"From where?"

Victoria stared back in confusion.

"Where were you going from that night you don't remember?"

Victoria blinked. "From here."

It was at least a minute later, with her staring at him in continued concern as thoughts and solutions spun in his head-the same as always, that he asked, "Was your boyfriend supposed to give you a ride that night too?"

"Yeah."

"Did he pick you up?"

Victoria looked up at the door frame beside her with a pained expression. "I don't remember."

Victor stared at her calmly, pulling all of the information together in his mind. She had showed up at her boyfriend's house with no memory of the night before, and her supposedly loving boyfriend hadn't taken her anywhere to figure out what had happened to her-not to a hospital, not to her psychologist, not even to her family.

"What is it?"

Quickly he shook his head and forced a smile. "It's nothing. Good night."

"Good night. Thank you, Victor."

Victor couldn't help the smile. He nodded and watched her go, then leaned over and picked up his bag.

This was the part he usually hated.

* * *

"Hi Drew!"

Drew smiled and nodded in response, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. As he did he noticed that Delia's were on the threshold, as they rarely were at the times he and May would stop by. He glanced up the stairs. "Is Delia here?"

May leaned around the couch to see him just barely from the living room. "Yep. She's upstairs though. She's sick."

Drew's brow came together in concern. He knew May couldn't see it from where she was. "Oh," he stated. "Alright." He finished pulling off his shoes and started into the living room.

"She asked us to be quiet," May added as he walked closer.

Drew rolled his eyes. "I gathered that was a good idea already." He plopped down beside May and frowned. He realized that Ash and Misty weren't there, but for the moment he didn't think on it.

"What's wrong?" May asked quietly.

Drew hesitated. After a moment he tried to forge a response but was cut off at Ash and Misty's entrance, or rather re-entrance. Drew wasn't sure if he was happy or annoyed at their appearance. His attention was drawn to them and he couldn't help but glance down at the hands somewhat awkwardly held, as if trying to hide.

"Hi Drew," Misty said happily.

Drew nodded.

"I'm going to run upstairs for a second," Ash added.

Ash paused a foot further, hand still in Misty's. They looked to each other, then let go with reluctance, both looking away with slight blushes when they finally did.

Drew raised an eyebrow. Despite his emotional state, a smirk started in the corner of his mouth.

"They're a cute couple, aren't they?" May whispered in his ear, so Misty couldn't hear.

Drew flushed in unexpected surprise when her breath came over him. He hadn't known she was so close. He gathered himself quickly after he realized he was blushing, and nodded.

May must have realized the sudden discomfort, because she looked at him and pulled away, in the motion brushing his hand with hers. Usually a casual touch, their minds were fresh with the memory of Ash and Misty so enraptured in a simple hand-hold and their own embarrassment.

May's heart jumped into her throat and she quickly pulled her hand away.

Drew looked away and dug the hand she had touched into the couch.

It was the moment when your heart flutters, and your head spins and you know the other is doing the same thing. And despite that, your mind doesn't move from 'Do I like them?' to 'Do they like me?'

Misty had situated herself on a chair across the room. She looked between the two of them with the beginnings of a smile.

As Drew began to come down from his embarrassment, he glanced towards Misty. He flinched, the blush coming back. "What?"

Misty waved him off with the same smile and snuggled back into the chair. As she did May played with her hands and pushed them into her lap, gaze focused on the floor.

All three were grateful that Ash wasn't in the room. He had grown enough to recognize the signs. Usually he was mature enough to not point it out, when it mattered. But at other times…

Drew quickly changed the subject. "What is Ash doing?"

Misty looked up the stairs. "He's checking on Delia."

May smiled. "He's really sweet like that."

Drew glanced at May the same time that Misty sighed under her breath and stated, "Yeah, he is…."

The tone brought Drew and May's attention to her. Misty jumped when she realized they were looking at her, and flushed. "He-He is!" Quickly moved on, talking through the embarrassment. "Well, you know! His mom was always like that for him. I remember once, she went up over and over again in the same day when he wasn't sleeping, and she would bring him food and-and… even when we were teenagers." Misty calmed suddenly, being pulled into the memory. "It's no wonder…" she started again in a whisper, "… that he would do that for her too."

May glanced at Drew, wondering what he was thinking, but his attention was riveted on Misty, as if something she said had hit him as well. May looked in concern from him to Misty, who was now looking at something unseen with distant eyes.

"He's always been like that. For everyone. But Delia… Delia's special. Most teenagers don't want to be bothered by their mother, they vent about them and ignore them. Ash never did that. I only remember Delia getting angry with Ash once, and when he went home from school he was crying…. I don't think he knows I saw it though."

The room had become very still.

"She's sweet, so he is too. They were all each other had."

The last line prompted them all to think about _why_ they were all each other had. May thought hard about it. Misty was right, but she had never seen anger from Ash towards his father. He had always been so good, and so loving towards everyone. He had helped her on more than one occasion, cheered her up and given her advice.

As May thought Drew considered how Ash had come to be his friend. One introduction from May to their group and Drew was suddenly one of his best friends. And sincerely too. Drew hadn't understood it at the time, how there were people like May, and Ash, and Misty, and how they could love so quickly. But he had learned a lot from them, and when he really needed somebody to understand, the way May as a woman never could, Ash was always there. Willingly and eagerly.

A real friend.

And for Misty, Ash was her best friend, now her boyfriend, and at his core the kindest person she had ever known.

"Delia would correct you on that," May whispered.

Misty blinked and looked to May in surprise.

"He's not sweet because she is. He's sweet because he's Ash."

Slowly a smile came over Misty's face. "Yeah…" she whispered.

The footsteps nobody heard till Ash had entered the room. He raised an eyebrow and looked around. "What did I miss?"

All looked up to him silently.

Drew was the one to break the silence. With a scoff he sat back on the couch and closed his eyes. "Always thinking it's about you, Romeo."

Ash glared at him. "I never said that." Then flinching he stated, "And what was that last part about?!"

But it _had_ been about him…. May rolled her eyes as they began to banter and looked at Misty who shrugged with a sigh.

As the volume began to rise Ash suddenly stopped Drew's response with a finger to his lips.

The expression on Drew's face was comical as a simple finger stopped his comeback in a way nothing ever had.

Ash placed the hand around his ear and glanced up the stairs. Then he turned back to Drew and put the finger to his mouth again. "She's sleeping."

Drew sneered and sat back into the couch, folding his arms as Ash started into the kitchen.

"May?" Drew stated with closed eyes.

"Yes?" May asked, stifling a smile.

"Stop that."

May giggled and Drew flushed. "It's not funny!"

The giggle turned to a laugh. "Yes it is!" She turned to him with amusement. "I've been trying to find the perfect thing to stop you in your tracks for a long time and all he had to do was shush you!"

Drew pulled back with his arms still folded, looking torn between embarrassment and surprise.

May giggled again at his expression.

Drew frowned. "Stop it. It's not funny."

His annoyance grew as she placed a hand over her chest and continued to laugh.

Drew watched with an expression that said he was not amused, while Misty watched with the exact opposite. Looking closer, Misty could see the annoyance fading from his face as May's eyes stayed closed, as she laughed and tried to breath.

"You sure you're not dying?" Drew asked.

May hit him, startling him to unfold his arms. "Th-That's…" Drew narrowed his eyes when she continued to laugh.

Finally she looked up at him with the smile and wiped tears from her eyes. "That was one of the worst comebacks you've ever given me."

Drew blinked, and pushed himself up on the couch to face her. "Wait a second, May-"

"SH!"

Drew jumped and glanced over the couch, watching Ash take a tray up the stairs.

May giggled again. Drew's glare did nothing to deter her.

Drew looked to Misty for a distraction and found her staring at the stairs after Ash. He glanced behind him and remembered what Misty was probably thinking of, that he had been carrying a tray. "Was that her lunch?"

May stopped laughing and peeked over the top of the couch.

Misty nodded. "Delia used to do that too."

May nodded in response. "Yeah. She _would_ do that."

"You know May, you were right." May looked back to Misty in surprise. "Ash is sweet because he's that kind of person. I believe that too. But I think Ash and Delia have, I don't know, taken things from each other."

"That's what happens…." Drew whispered.

May and Misty both looked at him in surprise. Drew shifted when they looked at him.

"When you're close to someone… you learn from them, and them from you. You get closer the more you love them."

May smiled, a warm feeling filling her at the knowledge that Drew was learning this.

Misty nodded. That had been what she was looking for.

Drew didn't need to say that it was something Ash had told him.

* * *

Ash closed the door with his foot and set the tray on the nightstand next to Delia's bed.

"Ash?"

Ash turned to her. "Sorry. Did we wake you up?"

Delia waved him off with a smile. "Don't worry," she said in a light voice.

Ash looked to the tray. "Are you hungry?"

Delia looked at the tray and smiled with gratitude. "Thank you, Ash. I-I would love that."

Ash nodded. "Sit up then."

Delia pulled herself up as Ash started to uncover the food. He pulled a pillow behind her when he realized she was having trouble, then waited till she was situated and placed the tray over her. "Okay… " he muttered.

Delia watched him go about helping.

Ash was surprised when he felt her hand on his wrist. He looked to her. "What's wrong?"

She smiled. "Nothing's wrong." She raised a hand to her mouth and swallowed the scratchy sound in her throat then lowered it and smiled. "I was just thinking…that I'm so lucky-to have a son like you."

Ash blinked. He wondered if part of her words were due to her sickness, but knew that she meant them anyway. "Yeah. Don't worry though, you're fine. C'mon, try it."

Delia smiled softly, shook her head and began to eat.

Ash settled beside the bed on his knees and rested his chin between his folded arms on the sheets.

He watched her try the food and smile. It was one of her recipes, a soup for sickness.

He thought back to how he had answered her.

Delia was lifting the third spoonful to her mouth when she heard the muffled, "I love you, mom…."

She paused and looked down to see Ash still kneeling beside the bed, his head resting between his folded arms on the sheets. A slight blush was there, all that gave away that he had said anything.

Delia smiled and ran a hand in his hair. "And I love you."

* * *

"Is it my fault?"

Delia paused with a dish in the air and turned to face her six year old. She hadn't known he had entered the room. Moments ago he had been in the living room playing, quieter than usual, but playing all the same. The question sent an instant pain to her heart.

"Is-Is what your fault, baby?"

Ash looked away then back to her, fists clenched. "Daddy. Is it my fault?"

Delia's breath left her. For a moment the question was too painful for her to respond. It was her fault they didn't have him. Her fault her son had to live without a father.

The self-hatred returned.

Delia dropped the dish to the drain board and turned quickly, dropping down to her knees in front of her son. "No. It's not."

"Then why did he leave?" Ash asked.

Delia swallowed. It was something she knew Ash had been dealing with for a long time, so the questions made sense. Still, it was hard to face.

Delia gave herself a moment to formulate the response. She had forgiven him for leaving them, for turning his back on her son no matter how terribly it hurt them both. From childhood she had learned that the best way to heal was love, but how did she tell her six year old that?

"Ash…" quickly she tried to formulate an answer. "You know last week when you played with Gary?"

Ash nodded.

"You fought, didn't you?"

Ash glanced away but nodded.

"Are you still mad at him?"

Ash looked back to her, wondering where she was going and shook his head, "no."

"Why not?"

"Because…" Ash twisted his expression. "Because… I don't know!"

"Try for me, Ash. Please."

Ash sighed audibly and furrowed his brow again. "Because being mad makes me sad."

Delia blinked, happy at what her son, who was so young, had learned.

"Even if he is a jerk…." Ash muttered under his breath.

Delia raised an eyebrow. Ash looked up at her and flinched. "Sorry."

"Do you think Gary is a good person?"

Ash paused. "He's been really mean to me."

Delia nodded. "Yes, he has."

Ash looked surprised at her agreement to him. "But does that make him a bad person, Ash?"

Ash looked away. "Um…I guess not."

"Why do you think he does what he does?"

Ash shrugged. "I dunno."

"Do you think maybe it's because he's hurting, or because he's mad?"

Ash blinked. "I dunno."

Delia correctly translated Ash's words to 'I don't understand.' "When somebody is mad, are they mean to people?"

Ash nodded.

"Why?"

"Cause they're mad. Cause their feelings hurt."

"Exactly."

Ash only stared.

"Ash," Delia started. "I'm going to ask you to do something that may be very hard for you."

Ash stared back intently.

Delia swallowed, and smiled, not showing her son how hopeful she was. "Your father left us, and it was very, very wrong of him, like it's wrong for Gary to hurt you. But just like Gary, your father is mad because he's deeply hurt. Do you understand?"

Ash stared at her for a moment then slowly nodded.

"Ash, some people don't know how to forgive when they get hurt. It makes them mad, and they hurt other people, like Gary. You're not mad at Gary anymore are you?"

Ash hesitated.

"Are you mad that he hurt you last week?"

Ash shook his head.

"I'm glad, because I want you to be happy. Now I'm going to ask you to do something very hard…. I'm going to ask you to forgive your father for leaving us."

Ash flinched and looked at the floor. "H-How can I do that if he isn't here?"

Delia felt emotion fill her throat. "You have to understand that what he did was wrong, but he was sad. Just understand that he was sad, Ash, and that's why he did what he did. Okay? When people are sad they can get mad and do terrible things."

Ash sighed.

"That's why I want you to forgive him. Because I want you to be happy again and do the right thing."

Ash played with his hands and looked up at her, this time there was emotion there. "But is it my fault?"

Delia swallowed tears and shook her head, "No, it isn't. I want you to always remember that your father loves you very much, and someday, he'll tell you himself."

Ash bit his lip. "Promise?"

Delia paused. "Ash… I promise that if he can he will. Now can you promise me that you will love and forgive your father? And everyone, so you both can be happy?"

Ash paused, then nodded. "Okay," he whispered. "But you too."

Delia paused in surprise.

"You have to, too." He said. "You have to forgive both." He looked back at her intently, only asking for what she was requesting.

Delia didn't know what to do with the emotion that was filling her. She hadn't consciously acknowledged that while she had forgiven her husband, she hadn't forgiven herself. And she was blaming herself, just like what she was trying to save Ash from.

Tears gathered in Delia's eyes. She nodded quickly then forced a smile. "Okay Ash," she stated. "We'll both forgive."

Ash nodded, and in his young voice stated with determination, "Okay."

He didn't know the one decision would make him who he was.


	17. Video Tape

"You hold the answer deep within your own mind, but you see you've forgotten it. That's the way the human mind works. Whenever something is too unpleasant-too shameful for us to entertain, we reject it. We erase it from our memory. But the imprint is always there." – Understanding Intro by Evanescance

* * *

Drew had decided to keep going. It was something he found himself consciously deciding each day. If he didn't make the choice, then he wouldn't try.

Today he wasn't sure what to do. When he woke and decided to move forward, he was surprised to find himself unsure what action to take next. He realized then that he had told Victor nearly everything. There was still emotional baggage, but he had said what he needed to say. He knew there was more, he still wasn't comfortable looking into his past, he just didn't know what he needed to do.

In the end he found himself standing outside of his old room thoughtfully. He wondered if it would do him good or harm to go in. He had already gone through everything with May. That one action had been enough. The only thing he hadn't yet faced was the closet in the room, but it wasn't as if it were different than facing any other closet.

Right?

Drew frowned and turned away.

When he re-entered his parent's room he placed his hands on his hips and looked around the room. This was something he hadn't done, and something that felt easier, almost driven more by curiosity than need. He had been sleeping in the room for a few months but hadn't really looked through it. He had separated himself from his parents enough that he could use their room and not feel strange about it, but their possessions were still theirs, and held significance because they had been personally used.

Drew sighed and looked around the room, then decided to do what he had done with May. He would go through his parent's things, and see what he found.

He was sure he wouldn't find anything as painful as his own room.

Drew glanced in the bathroom then rolled his eyes and walked out. Why should he go through their bathroom? That was almost embarrassing…. Instead he walked to the wall the bed leaned against. On both sides were matching side cabinets. Drew opened the one on the left side and found the top small drawer had a notebook and pens. Good a place to start as any, he figured.

It felt strange to remove the book, like his father would come through the door any second and scold him. He had to remind himself that his father was gone for good, and there was no worry.

Drew sat on the bed and opened the notebook. He hadn't known what he would find, but a list of numbers wasn't what he had expected. Drew blinked and lifted the paper. The left side of the paper was lined with numbers, from one to seven, then repeated. Next to each number was the word "yes."

Drew dropped the paper to his lap. 'Yes?' What did that mean? Automatically his mind went through what seven could correlate with, it could be days.

He flipped the page and found a schedule. The times were written in a twenty-four hour clock format. Drew was confused when he looked it over. He had always woken early so he had seen his father's day. The breakfast time and morning routine added up to what his father did day-by-day, but after that nothing applied to him.

Flipping the page again, he found more numbers, this time one to five repeated several times. Next to the numbers were again the words "yes." He was about to turn the page when he noticed there was writing under his thumb at the bottom of the page. It was a date, written in very small handwriting. The date on the page was from eleven months before hand, five months before his parents had died in the car crash. Flipping back he found the same date on the previous two pages.

Things began to come together slowly, though not completely. Drew flipped through the rest of the book and found the three pages repeated, each with a new set of dates.

His mind began to wander as he flipped through the pages, all the same. What was it for? It had obviously been used religiously, day by day. What was it? Automatically he began to flip through the book again. This time, somewhere near the beginning, something stuck out to him. He paused in his flipping and stared at the page. Something had been different, but he wasn't sure what. Slowly Drew flipped back through the pages till he found what was out of place. One word. In the middle of a page, where "yes" was on every other day, was the word "no."

Drew's eyes strayed to the date. He stared at it for several moments. His mind numbed. Most of the other dates would fade. They didn't matter. But this one did.

This one was his birthday.

Drew's gaze dropped back to the word. It was the only thing out of place, and though he didn't want to think about it, it meant something to him that it had happened on his birthday. He wondered if it had something to do with him, then he shook his head. He didn't even know what_ it_ was. It took him another moment to put the book away. He didn't want to move on with the numbers spinning through his mind.

He forced himself to move. He didn't know what they meant, and they could be nothing. His father had been strict with himself and organized, so it was possible they were just personal lists and Drew would never know what they meant.

Drew made his way around the bed and opened his mother's cabinet. In the top drawer was a photo book. The slips to hold photos were thinner than the average photo, and each placed inside of it had been obviously cut to fit. Drew found the first page covered with photos of his mother and father. Happy photos, some he had never seen.

Something that felt very literal cut his heart. For a moment he didn't move. Both of his parents smiled back at him. Driven by a painful curiosity, something he was almost afraid to know, he barely lifted the next two pages looking for short green hair. It was less than a second before he shut the pages in his lap.

He took a deep breath and looked back to the book. Slowly the painful curiosity came back. Drew opened the book and shakily thumbed through the first few pages. His brow furrowed after a moment, he became more agitated and began to flip faster, with more confidence. As he reached near the end of the book his fingers slowed. With a sinking feeling in his stomach he flipped through the final pages and relaxed on the bed.

He had left, he reminded himself. There were no photos of him but he hadn't wanted to be in their life in the first place.

So why did it feel like this?

Suddenly the numbness faded. Drew lifted a hand to his forehead as a sudden headache hit. He didn't understand this at all. The papers in his father's table or the photos in his mothers. What had they thought of him? Had they cared at all? He didn't know. He didn't understand. Drew's fingers dug into his hair, thick enough to fill his hand.

His mind ranted. He didn't care if they hated him, he just wanted to know.

Quickly he brought the other hand to his head. He was surprised when the tears began to fill his eyes. He hadn't expected them and didn't know how to deal with the frustration filling him. Every time he got close to an answer something else threw him off. There was always something he didn't understand. His parents were as much a mystery in their deaths as they had been alive. Why had neither of them ever explained anything to him? Why _hadn't_ his father come back into the room after his mother had held the dress and talked to him about it? At least a little bit? Had he really not been worth the time, the care from his own father? Why then had his father been so upset at the sight? Or had the care only been for his mother?

Drew heard the book hit the floor but didn't move. He hadn't felt it slip from his lap.

This wasn't fair.

It was a childish thought, but it came again, like the resound that followed a bell. And the thought was the bell.

It didn't stop.

It wasn't fair. Mentally he slipped, his six year old self coming to the surface as he watched his parents walk away and not come back-the actions following the dress fiasco. The memory was usually blurry but now it was vibrant. He looked at his younger self and knew that for a long time he hadn't moved (though he had only been contemplating the memory for mere minutes). Then finally the six year old turned back to his closet and stared at the dresses, trying to make sense of it himself. He thought like the child he was thinking of. Why were there dresses in his closet? He hadn't thought much on it before but his father didn't seem to like it. Was it weird? Why didn't he wear them? Was _he_ weird? Did that make it okay for him? Was he different than other boys?

The memory of his father's yell stopped the thoughts. No… this wasn't him. This was between his mother and father. It wasn't him. Drew contemplated this for another moment, nodded, and pulled the closet closed. Then he left it and climbed into bed.

The memory faded. Drew brought his hands down slowly from his face.

The tears had stopped before they had a chance to fall. He could remember now, with startling clarity, the thoughts he had had as a small child concerning the dresses. His acceptance had been there. It was almost normal. The dresses had always been there, for a couple of years at least. But he was young enough that it might as well have been forever. The dresses hung on one side of his closet while his regular clothes hung on the other.

When he began to go to school he really did experience confusion. But it was more a passing thought than a conscious one. When he began to get dressed for the day and his mother pulled out a dress instead of his regular clothes he wasn't sure what to do, let alone what to think.

It had felt wrong, but normal-maybe okay-with his mother holding it out. Until his father-his strict and self controlled father-slipped a surprised yell and dropped his workbag to the ground without care.

That was when he began to understand that it wasn't just him. Though he hadn't talked to Drew about it, his slip-up had provided him with what he needed to began to separate himself from the mess his mother was making his life. It became her problem and her life, not his.

But the confusion never went completely away. Each decision was made by him, alone. He didn't have help. He didn't have direction, and often he didn't know if he was making the right choices or believing what was true.

It wasn't until he met May, till he saw her and the way her family interacted with each other that he finally had direction. It was seeing her happiness, and wanting it, that led him to understand how it should be-and what he needed to do to get there. If he had been on the outside looking in, he may have been pleased to know that he had been heading in the right direction all along. May had been the final marker to lead him in the right direction.

Drew opened his eyes and looked at the book on the floor. Slowly he reached down and picked it up, placing it back in the dresser.

He contemplated stopping at that point. He had more than enough that he needed to talk about, but Drew had always had an issue with stopping halfway, and he came to the conclusion that his mind would be able to rest if he only looked through his parents room and closet at least.

The rest of the room was filled with the basics. Clothes, books, and sleepwear. Under his parents bed were two long wood boxes, that were locked so he couldn't open them. He got up and was going to open the closet when he realized that it might not be the right course of action, then he realized that he had made it to the handle of the door without worry. That caused him to pause. Had it been because he was going to the closet to pull something out rather than to face his fears? But now that he was thinking about it, he paused. He didn't like to admit it, but he had proven to himself at least twice that he could barely handle facing it.

But he didn't like that, not at all.

Drew furrowed his brow and contemplated what to do. He wasn't walking away from the closet. Finally he came up with an idea. He shut his eyes and kneeled on the floor, then opened the closet. His breath left him. Quickly he swallowed and took one deep breath. He wasn't in front of the closet, he told himself. He reached in and grabbed the first thing he touched- something that felt like leather- and shut the door. Drew opened his eyes and looked at the bag. He felt nauseas.

He shook his head and focused on the bag. Instantly he recognized it. It was his father's work bag, the same one he had had for years, the same one he had dropped on the floor when he had seen his mother with the dress. It was an old style, leather with a large buckle at the top. Drew ran his hands over it subconsciously, then flipped the top clasp open and looked inside. It was a weird feeling. The bag was old and Drew had often found himself staring at it as a child, wondering what he might find inside. The child in him might have been disappointed at what he found. There were regular work items: a notebook, keys, a binder, a small zipped pouch, and a few books. Drew sighed. It was a pointless thing to pull from the closet. Despite the thought, he continued to look through it and pulled out the small pouch. When he opened it he didn't know what to think. There were pills. He frowned. He had never known his father to take any pills. His mind began to come up with all sorts of solutions before another part of his mind supplied that he had been a doctor. Drew rolled his eyes at himself and zipped the pouch closed. He was going to put it back when something else occurred to him. Drew pulled the keys from the bag and looked at them. There were only four keys, and they didn't look like car keys. One was small, the other three looked old, a good quality key that you didn't pick up at your average depot anymore. He thought of the boxes under his parent's bed and jumped to his feet. This might be something he could use, he realized.

Drew came around his parent's bed and pulled the first box from underneath. He automatically tried the first of the old keys, seeing the wear and style of the old lock on the box. The first key didn't work, but the second did. Drew pulled the box to him and opened it and stared.

It was full of old video tapes. Drew blinked, and stared some more. He lifted one to his gaze and found written on the side a date, he placed it back down and found that all of the tapes had their own date. Drew's gaze drifted back to the bed. He pulled the second box out and opened it and found the same thing. Drew looked over the two large boxes and wondered how many tapes he had uncovered. A couple hundred for sure.

Drew felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. What was this about? He glanced over the dates and reached for one in the first box, near the left side where the dates started and pulled it out. The date meant nothing to him though the year was when he was still a young child. What had they been taping? There was no direction as to what was on the tapes, only dates. And who kept video tapes locked up, especially when hardly anyone used them anymore?

Curiosity overcoming him, Drew took the tape downstairs and kneeled in front of the TV. He had never consciously recognized that while they had a DVD player the VHS player had never been discarded, nevermind the fact that they never watched TV.

Drew pushed the tape into the player and paused. He wondered if he should continue, but his curiosity was overcoming him. He hoped that it might finally help to lift the confusion that his life had been. Maybe he would finally have some answers. But then he wondered, would it be something else that his mind couldn't handle? Would it be worse than what he already knew? Was that a crazy thing to think, or was it possible?

Drew stared numbly at the video, and then pushed them the last bit into the machine. The TV fussed for a moment, then turned on.

The camera that had taped the video was sitting on a table, and at an angle. Drew could see both of his parents sitting across from each other. Vaguely he knew he should sit back on the couch, but his legs felt numb and the thought was quickly dismissed.

There was silence for a moment. Drew watched his father write on a pad in front of him. As he did, his mother stared at Drew's father calmly. Her hands were on top of one another on the table, one finger tapping as she waited. She didn't seem nervous, or sweet, or fake, or anything like how he usually imagined her. She looked confident, as if she was just waiting for it to be over. Drew had seen her like this, but it was rare. Usually her actions were done with a false sweetness that made him feel wrong.

Drew's father set the pencil down and without realizing it Drew held his breath and waited.

His father leaned over the table, looked between his mother's eyes and asked, "Patricia?"

Drew blinked. Who was Patricia?

His mother nodded.

Drew didn't know what to think. In his surprise he pulled himself from the numb feeling and sat up straighter. Who were they talking about?

"It's been a while."

A while since what? Drew felt a feeling sinking in his stomach as he frowned. This didn't make any sense. What were they recording? And why did they need to record it?

Drew's mother nodded, then with a smile stated, "For you maybe," in a confident voice.

Drew sat back in frustration. He didn't know why it was bothering him so badly. He wanted to know what they were talking about, and with every word he was just more and more confused. It wasn't getting better. He almost wanted to turn it off, but somewhere in his mind he knew that he couldn't.

"Why?"

Drew blinked. His father was always very calm-firm, but calm. He never expressed anger, but Drew could hear the undercurrent in his voice-so apparent that he knew that his mother had to have heard it too. The only two times his father had seemed upset were in response to him, he was always so kind to his wife. His every action gentle. Drew didn't know how to wrap his mind around his father speaking the way he was now.

And to his further surprise, his mother smiled.

Smiled with a sneer.

"Why what?"

There was a silence on the screen. Drew was beginning to feel that he was watching a video of two strangers.

A minute later his father whispered, "You know what."

His mother sighed and waved him off, "Yes, yes."

"Why would you do that to him?"

Drew's interest began to peak. Do what, to who?

Drew's mother's expression strained in an annoyance. Drew's mouth opened in surprise. It looked like the expression of a bitter teenager, not like the usually false-sweet expression on his mother's face.

She looked back to her husband and frowned. "And you suddenly care?"

"I've always cared."

His mother scoffed and sat back in her chair. "Sure you do. You care about her just as much as the next guy, right?"

Drew's eyes widened.

"More."

His mother's eyes narrowed and she lowered her chair. An eyebrow raised. "More, huh? And Drew?"

Drew somehow hadn't been expecting to hear his own name. It had been like watching a younger, ornery version of his mom. Now he was brought back to the realization that these were his parents. And was she asking him… if his father cared about him?

Drew blinked and waited as the silence stretched. He tried to ignore how his heart sunk when his mother laughed after moments of silence from his father.

"You really don't care for him at all, do you?"

Drew's father's eyes narrowed. "You're wrong about that."

His mother shook her head. "Yeah, totally wrong about you." She stuck her tongue out.

Drew ignored his hurting heart and focused on the strange way she was acting, like a teenager, using words he had never heard her use. But when they talked again he could no longer ignore it.

"We're not here to talk about me."

Drew's mother gave a loud mock sigh. "Oh, that's right! We're here to talk about me, aren't we? News flash: you're trying to address her issues. You're going to have to talk about her and you and Drew. That's just how it is."

Her?

Drew blinked, absorbing the strange way the sentence had been formed. 'Her?' Who was 'her?'

"Think about what you're doing," Drew's father started again. "I know why you're here. Do you really think hurting her son is helping her?"

Drew's mother's eyes narrowed. "I _am_ helping her. Nobody else will, either. Not you, not any doctor. Just a man with a label, is all you are. 'Counselor' and 'husband.' You have no idea what you're doing."

His father's teeth gritted. "Do you not understand that you're tearing into a little boy?"

Drew's mother pulled back and looked at him with annoyance. "I'm tearing into a little boy?" She quoted with aggravation. She sat forward in her chair and placed her hands on the table, suddenly seeming to take the conversation seriously. "I'm not hurting anyone. Drew will be fine. She needs him."

Drew's body froze. He forgot to breath.

On screen, his father stiffened. "Really…. Not hurting him at all?"

She glared back. "A lot of help you've been."

There was silence for a moment, then she continued. "He's the only thing in the world she cares about. She's been through more than you could stand, regardless of what you seem to think, and she deserves something-_someone_ that's hers."

Drew could suddenly feel the tension through the screen. He sat riveted, unable to form a thought.

After the deep silence had passed his father spoke again.

"You're not giving her a son, you're intimidating him and scarring him. She's going to loose him. In his mind she's the monster chasing him, and someday… he's going to run."

Drew absorbed the words. His every limb felt unable to move. Then his mother, arms still folded, glared at the camera. Drew stiffened, and with a sigh, his father reached across the table and turned it off.

Drew sat numbly for several minutes, even when the screen went fuzzy and began to buzz in his ears. The sound was a million miles away and unimportant. He had realized the truth of his father's words when his mother had looked at the screen, and even glancing through the past, struck instant fear through his heart. It didn't make much sense, but the look, so much darker than anything he had seen from her, had brought back old memories and fears. But most of his thoughts, now that the look had passed, were transfixed on the memory of the words spoken on the video. He was trying to wrap his mind around it but having a hard time moving from the emotions the video had inspired in him to formulating reasons for both of his parents' actions. Nothing made sense.

Eventually, his mind had to stop thinking.

"Drew?"

Drew blinked and looked up to the doorway. May stood there, looking at him in concern. Drew looked back to the screen and realized it was still buzzing. He wondered how long he had dazed off. With a sigh, Drew leaned forward and turned off the screen. "Hi, May," he said as it powered off.

May looked at the screen and nodded. "Hi…"

When the TV had been turned off Drew rose and turned towards the direction of the kitchen without looking her in the eye. "Are you hungry? I can get something-"

He stopped when May's hand wrapped around his wrist, silently calling his strange actions to attention.

For a moment they both stood there silently, and then May asked. "Aren't you going to ask why I'm here?"

Drew blinked at the floor and turned to her. "Why didn't you knock?"

May frowned. "I did."

Drew blinked, causing concern in May.

"You didn't answer when I knocked. You didn't answer when I came in the house either. I thought…" May bit her lip. "I was worried."

Drew wasn't sure if he was right, but his mind filled in the rest of her sentence. 'I thought you were having another episode.'

The thought prompted something akin to a sneer. He quickly looked away to hide the expression. His hand twitched in May's grip.

"Are you okay?"

Drew took a moment to nod. "Fine."

"Drew."

The tone prompted him to look at her. He was almost surprised at the sudden intensity.

"What happened?"

Drew looked between her eyes, then glanced back to the TV. "Nothing. I'm just out of it."

May's eyes saddened, though she still looked at him intently. "Something happened," she whispered. "It's all over your face."

Drew stilled. His first reaction was surprise that she could see what he was feeling. He didn't feel like he was showing any emotion. His second reaction was to absorb the words and think of what they meant. Vaguely he glanced again to the TV. He thought of what he had just watched and again tried to make sense of it. Almost instantly a literal pain hit him, a headache. Drew raised his free hand to his forehead and rubbed at the spot while wincing.

"Drew?"

He waved her off. In her worry Drew was able to take his arm back. He raised the other to his head and massaged the pain there, then sighed and dropped his hands. Looking back to May, he found her staring at him still. He frowned. "I'm fine. Stop worrying."

May swallowed. "What time is it?"

Drew blinked. "What?"

May ignored Drew's obvious surprise, something he rarely showed. "What time is it?" she whispered.

Drew's brow came together. He glanced to the clock on the far wall while May watched him intently. For a moment he only stared at it, then something indecipherable entered his gaze.

"How long… have you been sitting here?" May whispered.

Drew turned slowly back to her. The smallest of frowns came over him as he looked to the floor in apparent confusion.

It was nine in the morning. He had woken at four. Searching his parents room could have taken an hour, but the video couldn't have been longer than half an hour.

So where had the time gone?

May swallowed. His silent confusion spoke for itself. "What were you watching?"

Drew blinked and looked up to her. His third reaction hit hard. He frowned. "Nothing."

May glanced to the TV. "When…When did you turn it on?"

Drew stiffened. His frustration was hitting him and he didn't know what to say without snapping at her.

When Drew didn't respond May deliberated about what to do. She didn't want to pry, and she was good about giving him his space, but this (whatever this was) was dangerous. May walked to the TV and kneeled down in front of it. Drew's eyes widened. "May!"

May had just reached for the machine when Drew reached her and ejected it, taking the tape with a glare. His annoyance finally came out. "This is my business!"

May watched him pull the tape back.

"I'm not your kid and I'm not your problem." The frustration and panic caused him to yell an almost childish phrase. "Stop interrogating me!"

May watched him blankly then frowned. "You've said that before," she whispered.

"What… said-"

"That you're not my problem."

Drew paused.

May's hands clenched. She looked down. "You seem to constantly forget what it means to be a friend. To care about someone…" She looked up to him, and Drew saw her emotion rise, something close to desperation in her tone. "You're always my problem! Don't you get it?! That's what it means to be a friend! That's what it means to-to…" May trailed off and winced, looking away.

Drew swallowed. The tape suddenly felt heavy in his hand. He thought of how she had ended the sentence and almost ached to know what she had been going to say.

She was right. Somehow, he wanted to share what he wanted and keep everything else a secret. Logically, it was wrong. But it wasn't like he was hiding things that were easy to share. May, and Misty, and Ash, might stand in front of him and declare that they weren't leaving, but they hadn't seen anything yet-not a fraction of what he had told Victor. He had learned the hard way that everyone cared, that everyone wanted to help.

Until it made them uncomfortable.

Drew stared at her numbly. He wasn't ready to risk what he had just seen with people he really loved….

"Sorry," he muttered. "Just forget it." He started back towards the kitchen. May watched him go with sad eyes.

"At least-" she stopped and swallowed emotion and Drew paused a few steps away. "At least talk to Doctor Vanrae about it."

Drew could hear the emotion in her voice even as she choked it down. It stung to know why. He nodded quickly. "Yeah."

May watched him continue into the kitchen.

After he was gone May sat into the nearest chair. She hoped that Victor could get through to him, because it seemed that she couldn't with some things. She didn't know how to help or what to say with things like this. Why didn't he trust her? She understood that he had a hard past and these were tough subjects, but if it had been her, she would have wanted to tell the people she loved. She would have wanted their support. Her mind focused on her own words. People she loved…

May looked around the chair. She could hear him in the kitchen a room away. So… did he want to tell people he loved? Her mind couldn't stray from the word. Eventually she shook her head and sighed. Drew was just different then she was. It didn't mean he didn't love them… her….

May bit her lip.

"Here."

May blinked and looked up to him and smiled as the cup lowered to her lap. She looked at it with a weak smile. "Tea," she whispered.

Drew blinked.

She looked up at him with a smile. "You're the only person I know who does this."

Drew frowned and sat next to her, quickly sending a blush away. "Well… that's because you don't go to the home's of people who actually have manners."

Drew glanced at her and was met with the same smile. He quickly looked away. "Why did you come here?"

"Oh! Right!"

Drew smiled at the floor. He knew she wouldn't notice as she went through her pocket with one hand and pulled out a ticket. May swallowed and they both ignored that she was obviously willing away the last of her emotions after what they had just experienced.

Drew blinked. "What's this?"

"I'm going to magic show. And-um-want to come?"

His reaction of moments before repeated. Drew looked from the ticket in her hands to her, a million different ideas running under the surface while his mind focused on a few and left him feeling strangely empty.

"A magic show?" he finally settled on.

May glanced away and nodded.

"Why a magic show?"

May shrugged. "Don't you think it's interesting? I saw one when I was a kid at school. It wasn't just magic then though, he had colored lights and the room was beautiful. He made it seem… well, magical…" May trailed off as her sincere remark began to sound like a pun. She continued. "Some people make out like the shows are scary, but his was beautiful. I wanted to… see something like that again. I don't know if it will be the same but…"

She glanced at him nervously.

For a moment Drew only stared at her, then he felt something occur to him and low thud start in his heart. She looked nervous, moreso than when she asked him to do something with her as a friend, with a group of friends. "Are Ash and Misty coming?"

"Ah…" Drew tried not to laugh at the look that passed over her face, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn't. Quickly she looked at the floor and bit her lip. "Um-well, no. I thought you might like to go with me."

Drew felt the room quiet, as if it were something he could see. May glanced at him again and he still couldn't form words.

Was this… what it sounded like?

"Is this…" he trailed off and remembered suddenly what he had decided, that he wasn't ready. That he wasn't enough, that she wouldn't want it…not now. Not when he was like this. "It seems like something Ash would want to see, doesn't it?"

May frowned at the floor. She let out a quick breath and sighed. "Yeah," she answered shortly, in a way he had never heard her respond. "It does kind of."

There was a moment of silence. Drew wondered if he had read her wrong.

When nothing else was said May sighed. "Well, I'm going. Come with me or stay home and watch videos." She lifted the last bit of tea to her mouth then set the cup on the table in front of her and jumped to her feet. Drew barely recognized that the way she was smiling wasn't quite normal. "I'm going out for a bit? Wanna come?"

Drew looked to the clock on the wall. "I have a session at eleven."

May looked to it as well and nodded. "Till eleven then." She reached down and pulled him from the couch. Drew quickly placed the cup down on the table before it could spill as May pulled him from the room.

* * *

"Good morning, Drew. Or afternoon, as the case may be."

Drew nodded.

"You seem to have something on your mind."

Victor placed the book he had been holding back on the wall shelf and started across the room towards him.

Drew closed the door behind him and nodded. "I'm… confused," he admitted in a whisper.

"Really? What is it that's confusing you?" Victor asked. He sat down in one of the chairs and waited as Drew followed suit thoughtfully.

"I found something," Drew whispered.

Concern came into Victor's gaze. "Sounds like you found quite a something."

Drew swallowed.

"What was it?"

"A video tape," he whispered, so Victor had to strain to hear. "Quite a few tapes, actually."

Victor blinked. "And…what was on the video tape?"

"…I'm not sure."

Victor paused, unsure of how to continue. He thought of what Drew had said on his way in. 'I'm confused.' "Well, why don't we start at the beginning? You said you found the tape. What were you doing when you found it?"

"I was…I was going through my parent's room."

Victor paused, then nodded. "I see. So the tape was theirs?"

Drew nodded.

"What was on the tape?"

Drew tried to construct his thoughts. "Uh-well, they were."

"What were they doing?"

"That's…That's the part I don't get."

Victor tried a different tactic. "Were they talking, or doing something?"

"Talking," Drew answered quietly.

"Why don't you just tell me what they said?"

Drew had a hard time repeating it, but in the end he repeated what he could through his confusion. By the time he was done Victor was sitting very still, looking through him.

"Did that… Did that make any sense?" Victor wasn't looking at him. "Victor?" Drew asked, when he still hadn't responded.

Victor raised a hand to his forehead, as if he was in pain. Drew looked on in concern, wondering if he shouldn't have brought it up at all. "Are… Is this okay?"

Victor waved him off and in a distant voice said. "Yeah, it's fine…. Just-Just one moment."

Drew blinked and stared while Victor gathered himself. Finally he took in a breath and dropped his hand. "Sorry about that. Just a headache is all. Hopefully I'll get more sleep and you won't have to deal with me in our next session," he finished in a smile.

Drew still was quiet. "Did you get any of that?"

Victor sighed. "Yes… I think I do."

Drew was honestly surprised. "That made sense?"

Victor looked at him with something Drew couldn't decipher. "Why don't we come back to this?"

Drew frowned. "Wait! Why? I-I want to know."

Victor paused. Drew could see the hint of something close to pity in his eyes. "This might be hard for you to hear."

Drew was surprised; surprised that Victor seemed to understand what was going on. But the surprise quickly faded to desperation and frustration. "I _want_ to know."

Victor stayed silent.

Drew thought of all of his confusion, of his desperation to understand the mess that had been his life, to know why his parents did what they did and if they really did love him. The confusion was suffocating him. At this point he didn't care what the problem was, he just had to have the cloud lifted from his life.

Drew jumped to his feet. "Tell me!" Victor looked back in surprise. The lack of speech, though probably born from said surprise, was more than Drew could stand. "I've waited my entire life to understand." Emotion came that was impossible for him to hide. "I've waited-it's been too long. I need to know!" His hands made fists. "My mother treated me like her toy and my father treated me like somebody else's animal over for a visit, and _still_-" Drew choked as the emotion came and tears came to his eyes. "Still I have-I have these moments when I think of them and I think they really did care. And then I think of other things they did or didn't do and I know that it can't be true. But damn it, I _want_ it to be _true_! I… I need it." The emotion clogged his throat and he had to stop to swallow the unexpected sob. "I don't care what it was that did this to me; I don't care anymore. I just want to know what. I want to understand why. Even if they r-really did hate me, even if they didn't care at all. I want to know why! What…" Drew stopped, his hands unclenching as he stared at the floor and the tears built. "What made me unlovable? Why… do I still… wh-why am I unlovable?" A sob slipped out as he finished and he knew that someday he would look back and want to hide behind his embarrassment. Knowing was worth it.

Victor nodded softly. As Drew choked on his emotions Victor gestured gently to the chair. Drew sat back down and held down the sounds that tried to come out.

"Your mother…I believe…had dissociative identity disorder."

Drew blinked and looked back to him, his eyes still lined with tears. "Diss… Diss-what?"

"Dissociative Identity Dissorder."

"What is that?"

Victor looked at him, carefully gauging his reactions. "It means that she had multiple personalities, more than herself inside of her."

Drew stared back, frozen. It was an impossible idea to absorb. "Mu-Multiple personalities…" he muttered. "Why-"

"You said your father called her Patricia in the video?"

Drew blinked and nodded slowly, swallowing the remaining emotions.

"And you explained the way she was acting, like you'd never seen before?"

Drew swallowed and nodded again, his lips trembling with emotion he wasn't sure how to handle. "What does- What does that mean?"

Carefully again, Victor arranged his next sentence. "It means Drew, that the person that did what she did to you, that the woman that pushed away your friends and punished you cruelly, was an instability of your mother's-and not her at all."

Drew sat frozen, absorbing the words. Victor watched a strange look come over his face, like bafflement or disbelief. "It…It wasn't her?" he couldn't help whispering.

"Well… not precisely. It was her, but it wasn't something she would have usually done. It was her sickness acting for her. She most likely had another personality because of something terrible that happened to her-so terrible that she couldn't handle it."

Drew couldn't speak. "Terrible…" he repeated under his breath.

"Drew," Victor started carefully. "You've told me of your mother before. Of how in other moments she loved you, she took care of you. It confused you."

Drew swallowed again and nodded.

"Allow me to suggest that _that_ woman, the woman that loved you and cared for you, was your mother. And that the other things, the painful things you would rather not remember, were actions that if she was well she would have never put you through."

Drew continued to stare at the floor, his mouth open. He felt as if he had been chained to the chair, his muscles' taught and mind spinning. His tense body jumped and unwound the moment Victor placed a hand on his arm. "Drew, your mother, the woman she was when she was herself-in all of your happy memories, truly loved you."

Drew could barely absorb the words. Slowly his mind began to take them in, to accept them. He had spent his life trying to deny what he had always thought to be the truth-that his parents hated him- even while he hoped for something he would never find true.

Now he thought of the video. _"He's the only thing in the world she cares about…."_

Drew raised his hands to his mouth, eyes wide, as the sob came. Another came quickly after and he couldn't stop the action. Drew felt a hand on his arm and somehow the human touch helped. The disbelief was in his tears as they came more vocally. The very thought that she loved him, that on top of that the pain hadn't been her at all, that the sweet memories were real and okay to look back on in happiness was overbearing. They were things he had decided to never hope for because they couldn't be true. She couldn't love him after all she had done to him. He couldn't be lovable when there was no reason for him to be singled out and treated the way he was by his own mother. But against all the laws and ideals he had come to accept, it was true. And he didn't need any more explaining to clear the confusion. She loved him. Finally it all made sense.

The one sentence negated the existence of so many of his worries about himself.

He was lovable, and she had loved him. Drew's wall of emotions broke, and he could do nothing to stop it. His relief spilled from him and his hands remained right where they were. And through the underlying embarrassment he was filled with a soaring sensation of one set free.

His mind had no idea that he was still going to have difficultly, that this wouldn't stop him from fearing simple things like closets. It still cut deep, and it probably always would, but now he knew. It was okay to love her. It was okay to miss her. He was lovable.

Because she _had_ loved him.


	18. Magical

**A/N So, "Magical!" Dah, dah, dah! I really don't have anything to say about this chapter, so in short, I hope you all enjoy it. I'm sorry it took a little longer to upload. I write these chapters as quickly as I can, but I'm on a tight schedule. Thank you for sticking with it!**

**Thanks for the reviews!**

* * *

"Drew!"

Drew jumped as Misty walked briskly past him, a twisted expression on her face.

"What?" he asked, watching her open the door.

"Talk to Ash," she stated simply, and shut the door.

Drew blinked and turned back to the couch that Ash was looking over. He raised an eyebrow and Ash shrugged.

Drew sighed. It wasn't as if he had been expecting anything different. Ash and Misty had always argued. The only difference was that now Misty seemed to be leaving the room a lot when she was upset. It was something that was slightly annoying but also understandable. She had a temper and all were relieved to see her finding a way to work around it for her relationship with Ash.

Drew kicked off his shoes and came to the couch, sitting on the opposite end from Ash. "What was that about?" he asked.

Ash paused and stared at the table, finally shrugging once more. "I don't know," he answered honestly.

"What happened?"

"…I forgot something, I guess."

Drew raised an eyebrow again. "Did she tell you what it was?"

Ash made a strange expression. "No. She told me to figure it out."

Drew simultaneously felt like rolling his eyes at Misty and slapping Ash over the back of the head. The two reactions were so counter to the other that his mind never made a decision. Instead he tried to decide what to say. Slowly Drew stated (in that rare way of his-as if talking to a child), "Was it a date?"

Ash blinked. "That would make sense," he muttered, more to himself than Drew.

This time Drew did roll his eyes. He sat back and looked away in the same process and Ash glared at him. "Don't go woman on me."

Drew raised an eyebrow. "'Go woman on you?'" he quoted.

Ash looked annoyed. "Yes! Rolling your eyes and siding with her!"

Drew shook his head. "I don't care. And I don't have a side. Just look at a calendar and see what date sticks out to you."

Ash sighed and stood from the couch.

Drew watched him walk off as May entered the room. He smiled. "Hi."

May blinked. "Hi…" she repeated warily. "What… Did you talk to… Doctor Vanrae?"

Drew usually didn't really want to talk about that. But this time… He nodded.

May pursed her lips. "Did it help?" she whispered.

Drew smiled, a soft one he couldn't stop. "Yeah," he replied quietly. "It helped."

They stood at odds a moment longer, till May came closer and sat on the couch beside him. "Do you… Do you want to talk about it?"

Drew paused. It had been enough. But now, in the rarity of having his own feelings balanced, he took in May and wondered… if maybe she needed him to talk. Because she sure seemed to…

He wasn't sure what he thought about that.

"Well… um… We figured it out. The video tape."

May's eyes widened. She wasn't able to stop her curiosity.

Drew realized too late that now he would have to explain it, and he really didn't want to go into that yet. He would rather just focus on the surface of what had happened.

"What did you figure out?"

Drew was relieved at the question. He could work with that. He let out an anxious breath. "I realized…that it wasn't me."

That one line spoke more answers than May could've hoped for. Drew had always had the mentality, and known and told her, that the issues were his mother's and not his. But May had known that with the emotions he had towards his past there had to be negative beliefs about himself hiding somewhere.

The way he had worded it was enough. It was admitting that he had been thinking it, which in itself was great, but also that he now knew better.

She nodded. "That's good," she whispered. She was glad for it, but somewhere beneath that she wanted so badly for him to open up to her and talk about it. She knew that he wasn't up to talking about all of it, and she understood it, but a part of her still ached to be the one that he spoke to, grew close to, and healed with. She felt as if she were missing some of who he was. Whatever Drew thought of himself or his past, she thought of each thing as a part of him.

And she wanted that part of him, even if she couldn't have it.

Drew's brow came together at the expression that flitted over her face. "May…?"

She shook her head and smiled. "Yeah, um. Sorry. I'm really happy to hear it."

Drew frowned. "Okay…" he said quietly.

May quickly pushed forward. "It's alright. I'm sorry about that. Tell me about it."

Drew glanced over his shoulder, like Ash might come down the stairs at any moment. "Um… maybe later?" he asked.

'Later' in most cases, might as well be 'never.' May held back the disappointment and nodded.

Drew sat still for a moment then asked, "Maybe… Maybe after the magic show?"

May's eyes widened. Drew watched her carefully. From nowhere, a smile split over her face. "Yeah." She said. Then her tone became openly happier as she absorbed the acceptance. "Sounds great!"

Drew couldn't help the smile.

* * *

Drew's parents' house had a lot of mirrors.

He could almost convince himself that he was just looking in passing, but usually he ignored the mirrors. The next day passed slowly right up until the magic show. It was almost time for him to leave before he consciously realized that he had actually been looking into the mirrors, rather than past them. Drew shook his head at himself and turned away.

Knowing he still had time to kill he entered the sitting room and lounged in one of the large chairs. His stomach was shifting and he had no idea why. He told himself that he was just going out with May, same as any other time.

Except this felt different. Ash and Misty hadn't even been _invited_. They weren't going alone because the two couldn't make it, they were going alone because May had specifically wanted to go alone with him.

Drew shook his head. He and May had hung out alone plenty before Ash and Misty had come into the picture. It was probably nothing. It could be him over thinking it, and he was going to end up embarrassing himself horribly.

* * *

"May! Aren't you supposed to be leaving?"

"Leave me alone, Max!"

Max rolled his eyes at the whine and walked past the door without more comment.

May had a pile of clothes on her bed, and the pile kept growing bigger. She was starting to think that her father was right and she had far too much clothing-so how was it that she still hadn't found anything that seemed right?

She paused and groaned at herself. It was a magic show…. In the _dark_. Nobody was even going to see the clothes.

'Nobody' being people she didn't know _during_ the show.

But before… and after…

May bit her lip and shook her head. "What am I doing?"

May glanced over her head at the pile. Her eyes dimmed as she stared at it.

May turned back to the closet. Something in her chest hurt and she tried to ignore it while she continued to look. In the end she decided that a magic show was a good excuse to wear something a little more decorated, and pulled out a flashy red top and flats to match.

* * *

Drew was silently staring at the doorbell.

He wasn't sure what he was feeling.

Not shy certainly. There was no reason to feel shy around May.

Not sad. He felt kind of elated, but there was something swimming in his stomach that felt a lot like something negative.

It was that feeling in his stomach, like nausea. He wasn't used to it. When had he felt it before?

Drew tried to connect a memory to it and couldn't. And then he realized when he had felt it, or something akin to it.

It was almost the same feeling he had gotten when May had begun to sit next to him at lunch, when he had finally let her be his friend.

He hadn't felt it in a long time.

Drew clenched his hands, finding his palms sweaty. He was surprised by it and instantly wiped them on his pants. That was the final straw. Drew rolled his eyes at himself and rang the doorbell.

He was surprised by how quickly it was answered.

Drew blinked as the door was thrown open. For a moment he flashed back to being nine again, to pulling the door open and finding May staring back at him-completely unexpected.

He had expected May this time but he was still surprised.

May came up short, as if realizing how quickly she had acted. Drew was too caught up in her to care. It wasn't a big change. May always looked nice, but her clothes were also comfortable. Today was different. She was wearing a red top that looked almost shiny with the sparkles on it. It extended down to her thighs. Beneath that she wore simple black leggings and flats.

It was rare that she dressed up. The fact that she had, brought him back to his old thoughts.

This was… a date?

He didn't know why it was a question in his mind. He knew it was a date, he just hadn't been sure she was feeling the same thing about it as he was. Now he didn't know what to think.

"Um…" May looked away and pulled a wallet up as a barrier. It was easy to see her discomfort. "Ready to go?" she asked pointlessly.

Usually the question would have been answered with sarcasm. Drew blinked instead. His eyes strayed from the red wallet to her hips where she usually had a bag pulled around her waist to carry her things for her. As the silence stretched he realizing she was waiting. Drew nodded and motioned behind him. "Let's go."

May smiled and nodded, following as he turned to leave.

* * *

"This is it?"

May nodded.

Drew looked over it with a furrowed brow. "Looks like a storage unit."

May blinked. "No, it doesn't."

Drew raised an eyebrow and frowned. "We wouldn't even know what it was if you weren't looking for it."

May sighed. "Let's just go in."

Drew turned to May and paused. Realizing that what he was saying was bothering her and for some reason caring, he nodded. "Alright…" he muttered.

May smiled and took his arm to pull him through the door.

Drew flushed and was glad that she had her back to him. This was something she did often, but today it was different.

Today everything was different.

They entered a small lobby like area. There was one main desk. To the side and off behind it there was a curtain. Music echoed from behind it along with a crowd of voices. Drew leaned around the desk to look while May smiled to the lady at the desk. "Can we get two tickets please?"

The woman looked up at them silently. Drew looked from the curtain to the woman and found her staring at him.

He blinked. "Yes?"

May held back a sigh at the edge in his voice, something bordering sarcastic.

The woman shook her head and pulled out a drawer beside her. "That'll be twenty-four dollars."

Out of the drawer she pulled two small pink tickets.

Drew's gaze was again drawn to the echoes coming from behind the curtain.

"Drew?"

Drew blinked and turned back to the two. The woman stared at him. "Twelve dollars even."

Another stare and Drew snapped himself out of it, reaching into his pocket and pulling out said money. He was already placing it on the counter when he paused. He always remembered details. "You said it was twenty-four."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "For the two of you."

He glanced at May. "So why is it twelve now?"

The woman looked to May as well. She already had her money out with her wallet, but now she held it awkwardly, unsure what to do.

Drew looked in her direction and realized how the conclusion had come. Without another word he pulled out his wallet again and took out the other twelve, laying them on the counter. He took the tickets before the woman could comment and turned to May.

"C'mon, May."

May stared at him in slight surprise, then smiled and gave a slow nod. She placed the money back in her wallet and caught up as he began to walk towards the curtains. The woman taking the tickets watched them go with a shake of the head.

Drew's eyes widened when they pulled back the curtain. While it may have looked like a storehouse out front, the inside was nothing but amazing. He heard May gasp behind him. There were bleachers all up one side of the room. The seats weren't amazing, but everything else was. The lights were dimmed, and all around the room were different colored lights. The way they had been placed made for the almost magical effect May had mentioned. It was like walking into a solar room. On the high ceiling were small glowing dots that gave the illusion of a night sky, though it was obvious what they really were. Somewhere there were black lights, because certain light colors stood out against the walls, though not on the people in the crowds.

If Drew was honest with himself, it looked as if they _had_ taken a store room, brought in bleachers, and then added all the color and mystifying lighting they could. It did nothing to take from the dizzying feeling of the room.

"It's so pretty," May whispered.

Drew nodded. Then as they both got more used to the sight he turned and asked. "Ready?"

May followed as they made their way to the bleachers. Drew paused when they reached them. There was quite a crowd but the seats weren't full. Drew made his way up till they were at the very top, and in their own row. May joined him and leaned to see the stage, though it was hardly necessary at their height. A curtain was drawn across it, but in the dim lighting it was hard to tell what color it was.

May heard a strange sound beside her and turned to see Drew rubbing his palms on his pants. It was a stretch in the darkness to see his face clearly.

"Alright?" she whispered.

Drew frowned and nodded. "I'm fine." When May didn't respond he took a calming breath and dropped his hands to the seat beside him. "It's a little overwhelming," he admitted.

May blinked in surprise while he mentally did the same. Honesty was becoming easier, as were talking about his insecurities. If anybody else had been there, he might not have said it, but on some level he wanted to tell May.

"Oh," she whispered. "Is it okay or should we go?"

The phrase made him stop and turn to her. He knew how excited she had been to come, and at the first sign of discomfort from him she was ready to leave. It was something she always did, but today everything was different and it hit him deeper.

Drew looked back to the crowd and the lights and tried to put his discomforts aside to see past them. The lights were sporadic, and the nearest people were three seats down. It felt stifling. He probably shouldn't have sat with the wall behind him, it causing even more of a suffocating effect. But behind that-under all of that-there were other feelings.

The room was beautiful. The lights were done well, so that it looked as though they were in a decorative room based on a constellation or night sky rather than a club. The crowd wasn't as big as it felt in the darkness. And there was an appeal about it. Something magical. Something slightly otherworldly. As he calmed he saw his own appeal towards something portrayed just to amaze people with talent and beauty.

Subconsciously he wiped his hands once more, then paused thoughtfully as he continued to look.

He was interested.

May watched him warily till he turned back to her. "It's beautiful," he said. "We should stay."

May stared at him then smiled slowly. "Okay," she whispered.

He wasn't sure why she had responded in that way. Her smile had said something else, something that looked like pride for him, but maybe he had misread the expression in the dark.

They both turned back to the stage as lights lit and the curtains began to pull back. A man stepped onto the stage and Drew couldn't help but laugh. The outfit was bright and showy, though also admittedly fitting. May smiled when she heard his laugh but continued to watch.

"Welcome!" His voice echoed through the room. He brought his hands to his chest and declared, "-to the Necro Mystics!" As his line finished he opened his hands to release a tropical colored bird, which flew from him and around the room then disappeared over them all in a puff of smoke.

The act was followed by applause.

"More original than a dove," Drew stated.

May shushed him.

He gave a quick bow and introduced himself then motioned off the stage. He brought two women onto the stage and introduced them as show hands as other women behind him began to place items on the stage.

Drew leaned towards May and whispered, "Did they have that in your school magic show?"

May gave him a look that was lost in the dark.

As everything was positioned the man began his show. May followed all of his acts by joining in on the applause. Drew clapped once when looking at May's enthusiastic clapping, but the majority of his time was spent watching silently and critiquing and appreciating what he could.

The bird was joined by others. The man began to tell jokes and recite magical sounding phrases as he did many of his illusions, most so in depth that Drew had no idea how he was doing them and May hardly cared. She was for the most part, happy with what she was seeing. The show was marveling rather than scary, and that had been what she wanted.

As the time wore on he began to draw volunteers from the audience. Some of the volunteers were brought up for something that made the crowd laugh while others came up to only assist, most were women in that case which was not lost on Drew as he critiqued the show.

May whispered as someone came down from the stage, "That was funny."

Drew shrugged, but there was a smile on his face. Both May missed of course. He whispered. "Yeah," in simple agreement. "He knows what he's doing…. He's studied his art."

May laughed. "You don't have to critique it! Just watch it!"

There was good humor in her voice. Drew paused and thought over the words then shook his head. "Sure," he agreed, though he knew it wasn't going to be that easy. He wanted to critique. He wanted ideas and he wanted inspiration and at the same time he knew he would probably never use it.

"He's calling more volunteers," May said.

No sooner had the words left her mouth then the magician's voice bellowed, "You at the top!"

May sat back while Drew blinked. The man specified again, "The young man sitting beside that pretty young thing in the red dress."

Both stiffened. Despite herself May blushed. Then realizing what had been asked she turned to Drew. He still hadn't moved.

Drew sat still. The man, probably supposing that Drew still didn't know he was talking to him, specified again who he was calling.

"Are you going to go?" May asked quietly. She watched but got no indication to what he was feeling or thinking. She realized after a moment that he was grabbing the bench tighter, but there was no expression on his face.

"Come on down!"

"Drew," May whispered.

Again he didn't respond. Suddenly they were both blinking in response to a bright light. As her eyes adjusted May was able to make out that the spotlight on the stage was no longer there but on them. The crowd began to cheer.

May blushed lightly at the attention on them but smiled all the same, still concerned. "What about now?"

Drew rolled his eyes and turned to her. May felt the stare and turned as well. For a moment he did nothing, then he smirked. "Of course I'm going to go."

And he stood and did just that, making his way down the bleachers with the crowd crowing around him.

As May watched something began to wake and elate in her. She had never seen Drew quite like this, the center of attention and loving it, but there had been times when he had balanced on the edge of it. She remembered when they were eleven. There had been a play performed and auditions were due. May had been excited. Drew had stood silently beside her as she looked at the times. When she turned to him he had taken just a moment too long to snap from it and then turn away and act as if it were beneath him, stating that it wasn't his thing. And then there had been his sarcasm, and his quiet way of making a scene by riling others up and remaining calm.

There had always been something, but often he would stop before he became the source of the attention.

May watched and wondered if this is what he would have been like if he had grown up differently, if his mother hadn't abused him, if someone had taken him out of his home, if he hadn't been afraid to do something he loved.

As he walked onto the stage May thought the smile was sincere. Emotion came to her throat that surprised her.

He was getting better.

"Alright now, what's your name?"

The magician leaned into him. His microphone was a headset so he waited for Drew to tell him then announced to the crowd, "Drew! Tell me Drew, are you afraid of heights?"

Drew raised an eyebrow and obviously answered in negative, though May couldn't hear him from where she was.

"No? What about drowning? Small spaces? Spiders?"

May stilled and frowned. She wasn't sure, but she hoped that Drew's fear didn't extend to any small space outside of a closet. It was something she had never thought of.

"See the point of magic…" the man started dramatically, leaning towards Drew who remained still with the same challenging expression, "is to _shock_ and amaze. To make something that _isn't _possible…" he stopped a finger raised, and began to unfold his gloved fingers one by one as he spoke till not five, but six fingers were raised, "…possible."

Drew looked at the hand speculatively. There were a few gasps in the crowd, but nothing dramatic. Drew said something May couldn't hear.

The man stopped in surprise, and May gathered that Drew had challenged the magic he had displayed.

The man recovered and raised one finger, "See, but that's the thing. That's why magic is well liked." He unfolded the hand again, this time with five fingers. "Nobody really wants to know, that would defeat the point."

May was surprised at the phrase. She wondered how many people were thrown off by it, how many people were suddenly wondering if they did want to know how the magic was performed like she was. She thought of Drew's speculations earlier.

The man spread his arms out and turned to the crowd. "And I aim to please!"

Light clapping echoed his statement.

"Now…" the man turned back to Drew "…let's continue, yes?" Turning to behind the curtain he requested, "Eliza, if you would?"

Eliza, one of his stage hands, reappeared on the stage, pushing a small wheeled stand with a long box on top of it. It was light enough for her to push easily. She placed it down, gave a delicate bow, and pulled the stand from the stage (leaving the box).

Drew looked at it silently.

"Now," the man said again loudly, this time obviously addressing the crowd, "earlier we addressed fears. The point of that was to further address the art of magic. With magic we go into our fears. We face them, and through means that are never possible we escape unscathed. Magic is a power older than time itself that gives us ability to do the impossible, even to the point of saving our own lives…" he gestured to Drew, "…or the lives of others."

May bit her lip, it was hard not to with the lead up they were giving, with music starting in the background, with colored light focusing on the stage as the man continued to speak. He walked to the box and opened it with flourish so that one side flipped open and then gestured dramatically to Drew. "If you would please step inside."

The music continued, the lights flashed, the man motioned…

…and Drew didn't move one inch.

May looked from the box to Drew and suddenly it hit her. "Oh no," she whispered in horror. She raised her hands to her mouth and watched as the time stretched.

After a few moments the magician paused and frowned. "Just step inside," he said in the same stage voice.

May's heart was pained as she watched. She wondered if she should do something. She wondered what Drew would do. If he did decide to brave it, would it hurt him rather than helping him? Would it mess up some of his progress?

The thought hit her hard. May jumped to her feet and swallowed, thinking quickly. When Drew took a slow step, May flung out her arms and declared loudly, "You send a man to do a woman's job?"

People below her turned and looked at her. The music was playing, but she still had been heard above it, her voice echoing around the insulated room from her position at the top of the bleachers. Drew turned with an expression of complete bafflement. Behind him the magician shared a similar expression. Then laughter began to echo in random places around the room, and the man's expression grew amused. He motioned and the light that had been on him swiveled to her, so that all focus was now directed to her above them all. May blinked in the sudden light and dropped her arms.

"Well, then! Come down and show us how it's done!"

May felt butterflies in her stomach. She quickly forced them down and lifted her head, making her way down the bleachers the same way that Drew had. Some laughter followed her, but it was the good humored enjoyment that only fueled such shows. As she arrived on the stage, she found that Drew's expression had lost a lot of its potency, but he still looked baffled. May blushed and smiled in a comforting manner.

"Now!"

Drew wanted to count all the times the man said the word and force him to do jumping jacks for each of them (a fate worse than death).

The man smiled brightly at her and extended a hand, which May took nervously. He bowed to the hand and straitened again. "It is my utmost pleasure to be in the presence of such a woman."

The comment was obviously in response to her words. She blushed deeper but gathered herself quickly and smiled.

"Scared of small spaces, miss?"

Sporadic laughter came from the crowd.

May only smiled, afraid any response to the words would insult Drew and the reason she was there in the first place.

The man raised an eyebrow and stepped back. "Now that we have a beautiful woman to look at, and I'm sure that others agree the sight is far fairer-" a cat call from the crowd echoed his statement (May blushed while Drew frowned), "-would you step inside and hide yourself from our view once again please?"

May made her way to the box. As she did the man looked to Drew. "Make yourself comfortable."

Drew glared at him.

The man obviously wasn't expecting it. Quickly he turned to May in the box. "Excuse me," he said and shut the door portion of the box. Then he walked to the side of it. "Now that we have our prize safely locked away we can began our next stage. You all saw the lovely Eliza bring the box in, and set it down. It is naught but an empty box. To emphasize this point…" he turned to Drew. "Would you mind taking a look at our box, seeing as you're here anyway?"

Drew glared and made his way to the box. Somewhere in his mind he knew that he was moving slower than he usually did, but he made his way around it, checking for anything that wasn't right. The process bothered him for reasons he didn't know. He was making sure she was safely locked away-that there was no way out. Something about that was… unsettling.

Drew finally turned to the man and nodded.

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

Drew nodded.

"Now then…" the man started to the box.

One more jumping jack, Drew thought.

"I will once again," the man started in a mystical voice as the lights dimmed, he clasped his hands together, "discuss _fears_." As he finished the phrase he opened his hands. Shrieks echoed in the crowd as a handful of spiders crawled from his hands. He flung the hands to the side (practiced though unnoticeable) causing the remaining spiders to land in the stage outside the light focused on him. "Fears make things appear larger, more intense, more surreal. Fear is a natural form of illusion. But where there is one thing, there must also be something at the other end of the spectrum to balance it. That is magic." The man paused, and music began to play. The light slipped from him to the box May was in. "What scares us? What do we think we cannot survive? Magic says we can." The box began to shake and a gasp echoed through the crowd. "Are we scared of things that move without meaning? Of why they move? Are we afraid of loosing that everlasting element that keeps us from day to day?" Drew froze as the light brightened so that the crowd could see something red seeping from the bottom of the box.

That was not okay.

"Are we afraid of being drowned alive?"

A fair amount of water seeped from the bottom of the box, spreading the red, and making it fade. If Drew had been thinking clearly, he would have still been critiquing and noticed that the red of the "blood" faded much quicker than it really would.

"Are we afraid of fire?"

Drew backed up in surprise as the box seemingly erupted into flames and the crowd loudly echoed his shock.

"Are we afraid?"

The fire continued.

"Fear says 'yes.' Are we afraid? … And do we need to be?" He snapped his fingers and instantly the fire stopped with a brilliant flash of light and the room was bathed in darkness as every light the room went out.

For a moment there was nothing but silence, an entire room of souls all carrying the same shock.

Drew heard his own breathing in the dark as it became stifling. He shut his eyes.

And suddenly there was cheering, louder than some he had ever heard. Drew opened his eyes and was drawn to the only light in the room. The spotlight, which was once again focused on the top of the bleachers where May stood. Drew knew the couple of seconds in the darkness, though stretched by the wait, weren't enough time for her to reach the bleachers. Apparently so did the crowd.

The noise grew deafening as the crowd began to stand and applaud.

The man smiled to Drew and motioned gently with his head. As Drew left the stage, the man removed his hat and bowed deeply. "Thank you," he said, his voice heard barely through the applause.

The lights began to come back as Drew made his ways up the bleachers. He could see May at the top, and the room began to fade, the clapping and the cheering and an exclamations. May was looking at him in concern and they both held gazes till he reached her. When he did, they stood eye to eye. The crowd continued to cheer, and then the man made his way from the stage and it started to fade.

"Let's go," May whispered.

Drew said nothing.

* * *

Drew was walking ahead of her. That in itself said a lot. May wanted to say something but the air was thick with tension, and she wasn't sure what. They were nearly halfway back, with shops on their right across the street and a small forest starting to their left, when Drew stopped. May watched the hands that had been still in his pockets slip out limply.

She still didn't say anything.

"What happened?" he asked.

"There… there were stairs under the bleachers. And a hole under the box. They took me out at the beginning."

Drew's hands formed fists.

"Drew?" May asked in a breathless whisper.

Drew looked to the trees beside them. "This is why I don't do this."

May stilled. Something blocked her throat when she asked, "Don't do what?"

Drew glared at the trees. "I don't do the stage…. I don't do… crowds." It was easy to hear the irritation in his voice suddenly rise, and even easier to hear the self-deprecation. "I don't do small spaces," he whispered. "So I don't do boxes in magic shows. That means I don't do crowds and I don't do photo booths and I don't do closets…I don't do…"

His hands shook.

May watched, growing more nervous.

"Damn it!"

May's eyes widened. She had never, in the entire time she had known him, heard him curse.

Drew reached out to the nearest tree and hit it with one of his closed fists. "I hate this!"

The violent passion in his voice reached her as if she had been right beside him.

May's mouth opened.

"I can't … _do_ anything! I couldn't get in a stupid box! A wood box that a woman could carry in a magic show! A _magic_ show! If there was any place it was safe it would've been then! The whole point of it is to scare people and then surprise them! Why?! Why…?"

May felt tears building as she listened and watched him. The emotion reached her as if she had felt it herself. She knew he was sincere. It wasn't an act because he didn't act. Which meant that he really was deeply discouraged with himself.

"Why…"

And then he said the most awful thing she had ever heard him say, the only thing she had never considered. The only thing she didn't know how to respond to.

His head bowed and his fingers dug into the bark, and he whispered with even more passion, "I hate myself."

The world quieted. May's body numbed and the tears finally fell, though she hardly noticed them. This was one thing she didn't know how to respond to, and she could barely handle the thought that he hated one she loved so much.

Apparently that one phrase buried all others. He had nothing more to say and so they continued in further silence.

Neither one of them knew or cared how long the silence had been when Drew finally dropped his hand from the tree and glanced to her… and froze.

May's tears still hadn't stopped, but now she was shaking as well.

As the world came back May began to gather herself. Drew could only stare and try to understand why she was crying. It made sense and then immediately his mind countered it and said it didn't. There was no reason for her to cry. The issue was his.

But she was.

"You can't," she whispered shakily.

Drew swallowed. "…Can't what?" He felt sufficiently cowed by her actions, and could do nothing but respond in like.

To Drew's surprise May glared at him and stated in a braver tone. "You can't hate someone I love."

Drew felt like he had been hit with something. The reactions came instantaneously after the words. His throat blocked, his body went completely numb and he could do nothing but absorb the words as if nothing else existed. His mind hardly dared to believe it and left him strangely empty. After years of misunderstanding about his life and not knowing why nobody loved him, he found it hard to grasp that May-or anybody-really loved him.

But she continued to stare with determined eyes and wouldn't be swayed and little by little his eyes widened and he began to feel something in his chest. Something that lightened and lifted and filled him with joy and disbelief in equal measures.

It didn't matter if she meant it as a friend or romantically. She loved him. Drew couldn't consider it either way, he wasn't ready for that. But he was ready to accept that however-in whatever way-someone really loved him that much. That someone was May, who stood in tears over his declaration of self hate, who had stood in a crowd of people when usually there was some underlying shyness in her that prevented it.

Drew couldn't consider that he hated himself any longer; he could hardly remember stating it with May standing in front of him saying that she loved him. And he couldn't respond, for a number of reasons. He didn't know what to say.

When May finally moved it was to wipe the tears from her face. Seeming to be suddenly embarrassed she walked past him and continued to wipe them away as Drew watched her pass and then followed.

The night ended in silence.

* * *

"A magic show?"

Drew nodded silently.

Victor raised an eyebrow. Drew had been completely silent since he had arrived, only speaking to mention the magic show.

"What happened?" Victor asked. Worry was edging its way into his tone.

Drew looked up at him. "The magician tried to put me in a box," he said quietly.

Victor's eyes widened. "Yes… that would be an issue," he responded finally. "What happened?" he asked again.

Drew again became silent. A few moments passed and he answered, "May stood up in the middle of the crowd and got their attention. He brought her down instead."

Victor was surprised, but not too much. "She knows quite a bit about you, doesn't she?"

Drew didn't answer.

"Did she do it on purpose? For you?"

Drew nodded. "She knows," he said shortly.

Victor blinked. "A remarkable girl," he muttered. He looked to Drew who was staring blankly at something on the wall. "You seem distracted. What is it that's bothering you?"

Drew pursed his lips. "I'm confused." The words slipped out without his monitoring them. He didn't know how else to put it. It was easier than it had been at the beginning of their session for him to move on to the point. "I don't really know how to explain it."

"Try for me."

Drew's brow furrowed. "I don't know…. It's like… like my mind isn't mine. I feel… stretched. Confused…. Just confused."

Victor listened quietly. "It sounds like you need a break." When Drew stayed silent Victor stated, "Is there something you do to relax or unwind?"

"…I can't think of anything at the moment."

Victor smiled a bit. "Then you need to work on that. It's good for you, and it's necessary to take some time out for yourself."

Drew pursed his lips. He wasn't sure why the idea sounded so wrong. A feeling ate at him, but it was one he couldn't name.

"Something wrong?"

"I just… it seems wrong."

Victor looked at him thoughtfully as he continued to stare ahead. "What is it you're feeling?"

"I don't know."

Victor tried a different tactic. "What did you do to unwind, or to have fun, as a child?"

Drew shrugged. "I played piano and read."

Victor frowned. "Both of those things you've told me on more than one occasion you hated."

Drew blinked and sat up straighter. "You're right…" he said, a tone of surprise in his voice.

"So what did _you_ choose to do to relax, to have fun?"

Drew bit his lip, for once not noticing the habit leaking out. "I can't… I can't think of anything."

Victor nodded. "Don't feel bad about it. This is common. A lot of kids who are raised with high expectations don't get a lot of time to do things they want to do. So if they decide to take time out for themselves they feel guilty. Do you think that may be the feeling you were getting?"

It felt a bit like a lecture but Drew was glad it was said when he suddenly realized that Victor was right. The unnamable feeling, fit with the word.

He nodded.

"My suggestion is to find something that you like to do, that you can do alone to distress and relax. It's very important to have a way to do that for yourself. If you can't let out your emotions they're just going to grow till your mind finds another way to filter them. It's nothing to be wary of. Most likely you'll just have a breakdown where the emotions make themselves apparent. Still, better to find some time for yourself. Makes for a much happier day."

Drew nodded silently, though he still had no idea what he would do to relax.

"Another thing."

Drew looked at him.

"Don't be hard on yourself about the box. You've made incredible bounds, and you should be very proud of yourself. The move to not get in the box was wiser than you probably know. Consider it wisdom rather than fear."

Drew nodded, but he knew that the lack of action had been fear. And it didn't help. He tried to think of only the first words and take those to heart to not be hard on himself.

"Anything else in the magic show?"

Drew shook his head.

"Alright then. I have a subject I'd like to discuss if it's alright with you."

Drew nodded.

"You've made incredible progress, as I've said. Normally I wouldn't put so much on a patient, but I see you as someone who can handle it-someone strong. It's an admirable quality. We do still want to take things in stride so that it isn't too much, but I think you're ready. If I'm wrong, feel free to stop me."

Drew swallowed, but nodded all the same. The words, even while intimidating, were flattering.

"I was wondering if we could talk some more about your father?"

Drew wondered why that didn't feel as threatening as he had been expecting it too. It wasn't that his father wasn't a sore spot, but that it didn't hurt quite as much as it had. He was encouraged by the realization and gave Victor the go ahead.

"We've talked about him a bit, but I feel like we still have a few things to discuss. The last time we talked about both of your parents and the abuse, you mentioned that he never stopped it. Why do you think that was?"

Drew wasn't sure how to answer that. It wasn't something he had always wondered. Not knowing hurt, and it showed when he shrugged with an expression that said he was disgusted. "I don't know."

"I thought so. Unfortunately, that's not something I can answer for you. The reason I bring this up is because…" and here he tried to be gentle, "…I think you should be aware that you may never know. If you're waiting for closure through 'why,' you may be waiting too long."

Drew took in the words with a sinking feeling in his stomach. He hadn't realized that he was doing exactly what Victor had said. And Victor was right. His father was dead, so he would never know. He wasn't around to ask.

The thought sent a painful spark through his heart that passed in an instant, and his hand began to rise to sooth it before he realized it. "Then… what's the next step?" he asked. It was the first time he had asked Victor what step he needed to take. Usually he wouldn't want to, but with this it was different. He felt tired, and he didn't know what to do.

"You're going to have to give yourself closure. Address your feelings and work through them."

Drew let out a quiet breath and nodded in acceptance. "Alright," he muttered.

"What bothers you about the memory of your father?"

Drew let out another breath, this one a sigh, and looked to the ceiling. "Well… the fact that he didn't care enough to stop the abuse…. That he never-never noticed me, even when I was right in front of him…." He ended on that and couldn't continue.

"That's more than enough for now. Why do you think he ignored you?"

Drew sighed in aggravation. "_I don't know._ I don't know why he did anything. I can't answer that."

"Good. So let's focus on things we have answers to. You've said it made you feel alone."

Drew hesitated.

"Can we focus on that? …Were you really alone at that time?"

"Um… I-I don't know. I mean, not technically. My parents were there. But I didn't have anyone, so…so I was alone."

Victor nodded with an understanding expression. "That had to have been hard."

"Well… I mean, yeah. It wasn't something… I didn't enjoy it…."

"Now you understand some of why your mother did what she did."

Emotion clogged his throat and again he nodded, it was all he could do.

"Your mother didn't want you to be alone, I'm sure. Would you agree?"

Drew thought hard and brought rare moments to the surface: her care when he was sick and the far and in between memories of reading books. "Probably…" he whispered.

"So the focus here is your father. He did hurt you. He didn't put enough effort where it was due."

Drew shuffled in discomfort as it was laid out so boldly.

"It hurt, and it's okay to admit that."

Drew bit his lip. "Yeah…. Yeah, it did." He muttered.

"The hard part is that all that you can really do about this is choose to let go-to forgive your father and accept that the choice was his and no fault of yours."

Drew didn't respond at all to that. He felt as though Victor had just laid a heavy text before him in another language and ordered him to rewrite it. He didn't know how to do it. "I…I'm not sure if I can do that right now."

"It's not something you have to do immediately. These things take time. But I'd like you to think about it. Try to understand what you can about where your father was coming from, and emphasize to yourself that it was not your fault."

Drew frowned but agreed. "I'll think about it."

"Good. That's all we can do. Our session is almost up."

Drew looked up to the clock and found that Victor was right. He hadn't realized so much time had passed.

"I'd like you to focus on that till our next session, if you're up for it. If not, I understand. There isn't any pressure, but I think it would be beneficial for you. Was there anything else you wanted to address before our time is up?"

Drew shook his head. "I'm alright. I think… this is enough."

Victor gave him a look of understanding then said, "You really have made incredible progress. I hope that you see it. I think you're honest when you say that nothing comes to mind. There's much less that your mind needs to cleanse. This may sound strange coming from me, but you've shown rare bravery, and I have to say I respect that."

Drew couldn't help but take in the words. It came from a man and it felt strange, but the words meant the world. It helped him to realize that Victor was right. He had tried, and the effort had made a difference. He really had nothing he felt he needed to talk about, whereas weeks before he had merely buried it. He felt lighter, and it was a great feeling. And it was his effort that had got him there.

"Thank you," he said before he could filter it.

Victor smiled and nodded, standing and holding out his hand as Drew joined him and shook. "Have a wonderful week."

Drew smiled lightly and nodded, making his way to the door.

He could see through Victor's windows that it was almost dark. He had been the last session he knew because the hours of the building were closing. He was almost all the way down the stairs and out of the building before he realized there was no weight in his pocket and he had at some point lost his key. He turned and started up the stairs again, retracing his steps. He could get the spare he had with May or Ash, but he would rather not just leave it for someone to find.

Drew found nothing on the stairs and found himself once again in front of Victor's office. It made more sense that he would have lost it in the office. He was just about to knock on the door and enter when a peculiar sound reached his ears, a gasping from behind the door. Drew froze. It was such an unexpected sound that Drew didn't know what to make of it. His mind quickly tried to connect it to an action but had a hard time doing so. Realizing he still needed his key, Drew called Victor's name. He paused. He didn't want to intrude, but he had been the last person in the office and he still needed the key. Likely, Victor was grabbing his things to leave, or going through the box on his table again, as Drew had seen him do before sessions at times. When no answer was forthcoming, he softly pushed open the door.

He was surprised to find that Victor wasn't doing either of those things. For a moment he only took in Victor in a spot he had not expected him, and then the entire picture came together and he felt rather awkward.

Victor was leaning over a chair, the same one Drew had minutes ago been sitting in, and on the chair sat a girl, blond hair curling over her shoulder. The two were entangled in a deep kiss. While one of Victor's hands supported him on the chair, the other rested above her knee, and her skirt was coming up with it.

At Drew's unexpected entrance, Victor pulled up and turned to the door. With Victor's head raised Drew was able to see hers. She sat still, eyes closed as if still entranced by an ended kiss.

Drew stared, wide-eyed, then nodded in acknowledgment and quickly shut the door.

For several moments he stayed frozen outside the door. At their next session there would undoubtedly be some strange feelings. Then there was the fact that it was happening in the office, which Drew thought was strange.

Drew turned and walked quickly back down the stairs. As he scaled them, he tried to remember why the girl's face was so familiar. He certainly had never seen her before, not that he remembered. So why was she familiar?

He had already reached the gate by the time he realized where he had seen her face.

The photos in Victor's box on the table.

Drew slowed. Victor's box. The photos were of his patients, weren't they?

Was she a patient?

Drew became troubled. It went against everything Victor did to be with a patient, though his mind stated that she didn't seem to be complaining it still bothered him. It was still wrong.

He had assumed the pictures to be of patients. It was the only thing that made sense. So was she one or had Victor added Drew's face to a collection of photos for something else?

Drew felt his confusion mount.

Maybe she was his girlfriend?

Drew remembered details. He remembered things nobody else noticed in the first place. So it wasn't hard to think of a few weeks back when Victor had stated with something like disgust, _"No. I'm not the tied down type."_

So… had he changed his mind or was she a fling? But she had still been in the box. So what did that mean? Some people might mark it off, but it meant something and Drew couldn't.

With a strange feeling in his stomach, he turned and looked back up towards the office.

He knew to anybody else he would sound obsessive, but still his mind asked its own question: Was there any way to look at this that wasn't somehow wrong?


	19. As If

A/N I'm so sorry this took so long. :P I've been distracted. I really hope the chapter is enjoyed, because I'm still pretty distracted and I had the worst time trying to write it. Still, I think it came out well anyway. There's much more coming.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate all of your reviews, as always! And thank you to my new reviewers! You know who you are, and you rock! :D

* * *

A week of confused thoughts.

Drew was, by nature, a very curious person.

It wasn't something he advertised.

Now however, he couldn't stop thinking about Victor and the girl. It if had been somebody else he might've been able to mark it off, but this was his psychologist, and Drew still couldn't ignore the feeling that something was wrong, or that _if_ something was wrong… it would mean a lot more.

Slowly the silence of the house intruded on his thoughts till he was lying on the couch listening to the ticking of an old clock. The sound got to him. Usually it was ignorable, as it would be in any other home. But now it felt like a reminder, and it just made the house feel even more empty.

Drew rose from the couch and started towards the hallway to grab his jacket. As he did he noted that a few months ago the silence was welcoming. He wondered when he had made the transition between wanting to be alone and dreading it.

The thought left him as cold wind hit him in the face with the open door.

It was time for a session.

Drew pushed the door open as if it were the thing he was dreading. As he opened it fully he found Victor across the room, standing over the table as he sometimes did. Drew wasn't sure why he did it, but it wasn't exactly his business. He wouldn't even care, but now his thoughts were on what was situated on the table in front of him.

The box, with the photos. The photo of the girl.

Drew shook his head. The motion drew the attention of Victor, who raised his head and blinked at Drew then looked to the clock as if time had gotten away from him.

Drew waited patiently, unable to do much else, till Victor looked back to him and slowly smiled. "Hi…. Um…" He looked at the table below him and sighed. "Sorry. Time got away from me." He muttered the last little bit and picked up the photos, placing them back in the box. As he did, he motioned to the chairs across the room. "Take a seat."

Drew's eyes lingered a bit longer on the photos as if he would be able to see if her picture from where he was, but of course he could see no details. Resigning himself to unanswered questions, Drew started towards the chair. It was an early session this week. Light spilled through the windows lining the far wall, but no sun, as it hid on the opposite side of the building. Drew still was drawn to it. He wasn't a fan of heights, and they were quite high, but he enjoyed the view of the city.

Victor joined him, blocking his view of the windows. With a half smile, Victor pulled the rare pad from beneath his chair. Instead of holding it, he placed it on the small table between them, as if to say it wasn't necessary. Drew silently appreciated it.

The silence stretched.

Drew wasn't sure what to say. As he sat in discomfort, Victor flipped the top page of the pad over and then sat back in his chair. Then he smiled. "Where were we?"

Finally the feeling became too much. Drew wasn't sure how to say it without sounding ridiculous, so he stumbled through his apology. "I-uh, I'm sorry about…"

Victor blinked.

Drew wondered if Victor would finish the statement for him, or fill in with a response. But he didn't. "Well-um, for…yeah. Sorry about that."

Drew was surprised when Victor continued to stare at him, this time his brow coming together in a slight show of confusion. "I… I'm sorry. What is it you need to apologize for?"

For a moment the two only stared at each other. Drew wasn't sure how to respond to it. His first thought was that Victor didn't seem to be getting what he was apologizing for. His second thought was that Victor _had_ to know; you couldn't just forget something like that. The only other option was that Victor just didn't see it as an issue and was confused as to why Drew would see it that way.

So how to respond?

"I guess… nothing," he muttered in surprise.

Victor's brow came together further but he looked down and the expression was lost. "Alright then…. Last week we talked about…"

Victor's voice faded for Drew as he began to speak. Other than his confusion, he was acting completely normal.

"Actually…"

Victor stopped talking and looked up at him in slight surprise as Drew cut in. His curiosity was back, and as always, it was impossible to quiet.

"I was wondering… if you could tell me something? I understand if you don't want to… but…"

Victor was surprised but managed to ignore it. "What would you like to know?"

Drew thought of the table behind him and in his mind's eye he could see it. Swallowing he asked quickly, "Your box. The one on the table. What is it for?"

Victor blinked in surprise. For a moment Drew wasn't sure how he would respond, then he relaxed and smiled. "Well, I guess I've done it a lot in front of you." His posture relaxed and he answered calmly, if not with a tint of embarrassment. "It's a bit of a process for me. I have pictures of my patients and I use them to…" he shrugged, "…come up with solutions."

"Every picture is a patient?" Drew found himself asking quietly.

Victor paused. "Yes… they are. That's what the box is for."

Drew wasn't sure what to do when he looked up and Victor still looked completely clueless.

* * *

"May! Drew's here!"

Drew watched Caroline call up the stairs and smiled in thanks.

May came quickly down the stairs a moment later as Caroline walked away. "Hey," she said happily.

Drew smiled back but said nothing. May paused on the bottom stair. "Want to talk?" She asked.

Drew paused. He was about to answer in the negative when May crossed the space between them and grabbed his jacketed sleeve, pulling him up the stairs after her. As she did, she called to her mother. "We'll be up for just a few minutes."

"Alright. Be good!" Her mom called after her.

May blushed and rolled her eyes, pulling Drew a little faster till they had reached the room.

After she had closed the door and Drew had set himself behind her on the bed, she turned and hands on her hips asked, "What's wrong?"

Drew only stared. "I didn't say anything was wrong."

May frowned. "You didn't have to."

Drew raised an eyebrow and the two stared at each other for one long moment, till May sighed and joined him on the bed. "What is it?"

Drew resigned himself to his fate and sighed. "I don't know."

May tilted to the side to see his face. "There must be something," she said quietly.

Drew seriously considered telling her, but he wasn't sure how it would sound, and seeing Victor had just confused him. He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. I'm fine."

"You can tell me, you know," May said quietly. It was something he had heard before, but for some reason today it meant more. He could tell that she really wanted him to know that he _could_ tell her. There was extra effort behind the words. And with that realization he might've tried to tell her… if it had been about him, but it wasn't, and it would just sound ridiculous.

"Don't worry about it."

May sighed beside him and fell back on the bed. "Sometimes you drive me crazy."

Drew paused at the words and turned over his shoulder to view her. May was glaring at the ceiling (more pouting than not), but feeling his gaze she looked to him.

May blinked when Drew continued to slowly turn till he was nearly leaning over her. It was much more natural than she would have expected such an action to feel. His hand had barely touched the blanket on her other side, the beginnings of caging her in, when he pulled it back. May's heart stayed in her throat as an indecipherable expression came over his face and he slowly pulled back up.

May stared at him from behind as Drew pulled his hands to his side and turned back to the far wall.

The silence was broken with a knock on the door that had them both jumping.

"Mom said to tell you lunch is ready!" Max's voice came through the door. "And Drew can come too. Not that it needs to be said…" Max muttered the last sentence under his breath, though it was still heard through the door.

May sat up. "Okay."

"And stay off the bed!"

May flushed. "Max, go away!"

Drew smiled despite himself as Max's footsteps travelled down the hall.

May sighed, then smiled and turned to him. "Ready?" she asked.

Drew nodded and rose as May did, following her from the room. As he left he paused and glanced back towards her bed, messed from the two of them. May saw his hesitance and leaned behind him to glance into the room. Seeing the issue, she grabbed his arm and dragged him from the room. Drew pulled lightly till he realized it was no use and allowed it with a sigh.

"Drew, dear. How are you?" Caroline asked as the two of them scaled the stairs. She watched Drew turn to look back up the stairs before she caught his attention.

Drew smiled lightly. "Fine. Thank you."

Caroline nodded with a smile and pulled a platter from the kitchen. Drew gingerly sat himself at the table after May. Despite their constant kindness, he always felt a bit awkward joining them for a meal. He knew he shouldn't, but it didn't help. Still, eating with them was worth it. Something in his spirit lifted when he sat down with them, as if he belonged. It was something he couldn't explain and wouldn't even if he could from embarrassment.

Max reached into the dish in front of them, and pulled a section of the casserole out. As May began to join him in dishing, Drew glanced to the end of the table opposite to Caroline. The seat was empty as it was usually where Norman would sit. Drew didn't know why it left him with an empty feeling...

"Drew!"

Drew jumped and turned to the voice.

Caroline smiled. "It's been a little while since I've seen you. Anything new?"

Drew swallowed, hesitated, and shook his head before he had thought the action through. Then he stopped and answered quietly, "No. Not particularly."

Caroline gave him a sad smile that Drew had become only too familiar with in the last few years he had known her, and nodded. "Well, then." She looked down to her plate and May watched the interaction as she slowly chewed. "May tells me you've been seeing a counselor?"

Drew froze and May choked on her food, swallowing quickly enough to hiss, "Mom!"

Caroline looked in confusion from the stiff form of Drew to the worried one of May and gave them both a look at the same time. "Is this something I shouldn't know about?"

Drew's hands twisted the material of his pants under the table, the only giveaway of his emotions, though nobody else could see it. He was staring silently at the table and Caroline looked to him in concern. "Drew, you know this is nothing to be ashamed of?" She asked kindly.

A hint of emotion passed through his barrier, just a twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah," he choked out finally.

Caroline wasn't convinced, but Drew didn't see the expression.

May looked at him in worry as guilt began to eat at her.

Max sighed at the end of the table. "I'm going upstairs."

May was surprised by it but watched her brother go without complaint.

Silence permeated the room as Max walked up the stairs.

After the silence had stretched, Caroline opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Drew's muttered, "I have some…things I have to do. I should go." May stood with him, but felt something sink in her stomach, like a weight keeping her numb, as Drew took the short stretch to the door and left.

May watched after him for several moments then turned to her mother in frustration. "Mom! Why would you bring that up? Why now?"

Caroline didn't answer her, but stared after Drew thoughtfully. "How long has he been going to counseling?" she asked.

May answered with the same emotion. "A few months."

"Hmm."

The calm response set off the last of May's frustration. With an exclamation of such she ran to the door to follow his escape.

* * *

"Drew!"

Drew heard the yell behind him but didn't slow. He would've been ashamed with the angry feelings filling him if he had been in the right mindset to consider them. As it was the emotion was rising past his point of controlling it, and he didn't want to talk to her about it.

But when had May ever left him alone?

When May stopped at his side to catch her breath he continued walking. May frowned and hurried to catch up again. When she was to his side she tried to view his face, an action he didn't return. The upset was obvious, and she knew that he was angry. "Drew, I'm sorry! Listen, I didn't mean anything by it. She doesn't judge you for it! Really, she doesn't. You heard her, didn't you?"

It was hard to say so much and try to get his attention at the same time, as he continued to walk. "Drew, please think about it. Why would she think any less of you? Drew, please!" May stopped and again he continued without her. May watched him go with clenched teeth, then formed fists and put all of her frustration into one word, "Drew!"

Drew finally stopped, fists clenching at his sides. "What?"

The cutting way he said it stopped her cold.

When he didn't say anything May swallowed and whispered. "I already told you what."

Drew laughed. "Like any of that means anything." He gave a short pause that sent her mind reeling with responses, but before she could reply he continued. "You think that because she's your mother she doesn't judge me?" His fist tightened. His first sentence started in a whisper and grew from there. "Of course she judges me. She'd be stupid not to. The fact that she's a mother means that she judges me more. She has to, because that's her job! Her job is to be a mother to _you._ To take care of _you_. To protect _you_! So why in her right mind would she put that same effort into me, if she thought I might hurt you? In _any_ way?" His fists slipped from their grip, and suddenly his tone was back to normal. "I'm not her child, May. So I don't matter, not like you."

May wasn't completely sure what he was leading to, but before she could figure it out his fists loosened and he whispered, "And I didn't want her to know."

"I…" May took a deep breath and pushed on. "I don't understand. Why do you-Why would you think something like that? You _know_ my mom." When Drew didn't answer, May made her way to him carefully once again. He was too caught up in thoughts to notice, and May had already leaned around his side to see him before he realized it and turned away.

May gasped.

He was crying.

It wasn't strictly crying. There was no sound, the tears didn't flow. But his eyes were lined with what seemed to be frustrated tears. Maybe unnoticeable to others.

Not to her.

May didn't know what to do. She had only seen him cry once, and that was when he was so broken down that his mind was that of a five year old. Now, whatever it was that was hitting him was strong enough to make him bring him to tears, completely in his right mind.

"Drew…" May whispered.

Drew winced and continued to look away.

"What… What are you thinking?"

Drew gave a half laugh. "It hardly matters," he replied coldly.

May frowned. "Don't be stupid. You know I care."

The response, so abrupt, shut him up. It also brought other emotions to the surface, though he had no idea why, and he had already raised his hand to wipe away tears before he realized it.

"What is it, Drew?" May whispered sincerely.

Drew stubbornly bit his lip and dropped his hand to his side, fighting to hold back what wanted to come. "It's nothing," he said again, but the choke in his words said otherwise.

"Drew," May said firmer this time. Suddenly everything pulled together. He wouldn't talk to her. Obviously his parents had never been people he could go to. He had never gone to anybody, nor had he had anybody to support him. And now that he did, he still didn't know how to talk to them. She had been careful, careful and slow. But the tears showed more than anything else how much he was holding back. "Tell me," she said, this time firmly. The words seemed to echo 'trust me.'

Emotions already high, the words only pushed them further. _As if he could,_ his mind declared. As if he could just talk about it. As if he wouldn't look like a freak, sound like a basket case. As if she would stand there and make the trust worth it, no matter how caring she was. As if she could handle it. As if anybody could. As if anybody wanted to love someone who was troublesome, or put in the effort. As if anybody would ever love him. His own mother hadn't-not enough, what was to say _her_ mother would? As if…

The thought caught him off guard.

May's eyes widened with the choke. The tears continued to gather at a rapid pace. Panic hit Drew in a heartbeat as he realized he wouldn't be able to stop them. He turned further, terrified. He resisted the impulse to wipe away the building tears, which would only prove they were there. His heart started to thud in his chest at the thought of crying there, for a reason that would seem ridiculous-in front of May, a childish action. Crying-something he had given up long ago, at what age he wasn't sure. He just knew that at some very young point he had realized the tears hurt more than they helped. He hadn't wanted to hurt, so he had stopped crying… stopped remembering.

He had cried in front of Victor once. But that had been different. He had just learned about his mother. It had been Victor. That made all the difference. The things he had told Victor were memories he had had to unbury to address.

But he had done it for a reason. He didn't want her to see him crying. He had taken care of himself. He was good at that. He knew how to swallow emotion and forget, and for a while that had been his strength. That had been the way to get through everything. Simply put, suck up the emotion, and then forget about what had happened.

It had felt easier. But now that he was having to deal with everything, he was unburying emotions he didn't remember having in the first place.

They were emotions of a child: resentment and loneliness and abandonment. Anger and fear.

Fear for so much. So much more than he had realized.

Fear of closets, and dark spaces where he would loose himself and remember things he still hadn't realized. Fear of his parents. Fear of being ignored and unloved.

This felt like that fear he had stubbornly forgotten. He didn't know what he was afraid of, but it was more than the tears. It had something to do with May and her mother. He had become more used to braving his emotions since he had started the sessions. Now it was almost normal to admit how he was feeling to himself.

But he didn't want to admit this.

He was afraid to admit it, and he didn't even understand why.

Drew felt his breath leave him in frustration. Everything ran through his mind at once, and he tried desperately to put all of the emotions away and just ignore them. He had done it for years. He could do it again. It was better that way.

Suddenly there were arms around him, a soft presence against his back and a whispered phrase in a sweet tone. "It's okay."

Drew froze at the words. In a moment his thoughts stopped. He was calm, and in that calmness his mind stopped trying to fight everything away.

The first of many tears spilled over. Against his back he felt May hold on tighter, the last straw. Drew's eyes shut as he realized the tears were coming despite his efforts. His hands balled to fists at his side and thoughts he had always used to fight emotion began to come. His own personal pep talks; things like: it was weak to cry, it was pointless to cry, followed by 'why be sad at all?' What good would that do? Each of the questions and statements died as they rose. It was hard to think about them with the arms around him, with the presence against his back. With 'it's okay,' echoing in the still air around them. With a feeling of, for once, being understood….

It was several moments before he realized he was crying.

May didn't move. And she held on till all that he could think about was that he was crying and she was there. Fighting became exhausting and he gave up, trying not to think about how wonderful it really did feel-which went against every notion he had ever had towards crying. Feelings of support and care and understanding, and the love she had declared only recently, surrounded him. Relief came with the tears.

Minutes later the tears stopped and he wiped them all away and she waited still. Then in the silence she took his hand to lead him back.

Drew pulled.

May looked back in concern.

Drew looked away silently, but refused to move, unwilling to voice the worry that had overtaken him.

May's eyes softened. "Let's go."

Drew looked back to her slowly and looked between her eyes. A lump raised in his throat in the emotional realization of something he had never experienced. He knew then that she understood, even if she didn't voice it. Maybe she didn't understand it fully, but she understood enough.

He had seen the effort, but he had never felt that she really understood. Now, he could tell she did.

The silence stretched between them. May stared back and Drew only took her in, for the first time feeling that she was right. It was okay, at least now, alone with her.

It was okay. She made it okay. His heart lurched as he stared back at her. All of the emotions began to mix to make one and he wondered…

…what was this feeling?

* * *

"Mom? We're back!"

Caroline looked up at the voice, still at the table. She heard the footsteps pause, then heard them continue and start up the stairs and sighed. She rose from the table and began to trail the stairs herself till she reached May's bedroom and knocked on the door. She had the unfortunate habit of many mothers, which was to knock and simply walk in right afterwards. But this time she waited.

May stood when she realized her mother wasn't going to walk in and came to the door, looking surprised.

"May, give me a moment with Drew."

May paused, stumped. "Uh…"

"Just a moment."

She could see Drew behind May on the bed, looking the other direction. May bit her lip and Caroline looked at her daughter. "May… give me a moment."

The phrase had as much of a request as it did the motherly component of 'this is going to happen.'

May let out a deep breath and glanced at Drew. "I'll…be right back?"

Drew gave no recognition of hearing her. May sighed and left the room, glancing back as Caroline stepped in and closed the door.

Drew stiffened but didn't look away from the opposite wall as Caroline crossed the room and sat down beside him. There was a moment of silence, then Caroline looked to the ceiling, hands in her lap and said, "I fell in love when I was thirteen."

Drew blinked at the harmless phrase and started to turn to her, but caught himself.

Caroline glanced at him and continued. "People told me that I was too young to know what love was, but I knew they were wrong. I knew I was in love, and I knew it would last forever." She smiled sadly and looked at her lap. "It's strange, the things children think. When we're young, or even older and experiencing something for the first time, all we know is what we feel. And then we get older, and we see what we couldn't. We see that we were wrong, but it was necessary."

Drew frowned.

Caroline sighed. "Things feel far worse than they are when they pass."

Drew thought he knew what she was getting at, but he wasn't sure he agreed.

"Drew…" She started. The tone, his name said by her, affected something he couldn't name. He felt his wall come down a bit, and feeling wriggle in.

And it hurt.

"I know what it feels like to go through something, and for everyone around you to tell you that you're crazy. At some point everyone experiences it. It might be hard for you to understand right now, but a lot of people know that you deciding to try is very mature. And it's a quality people will appreciate in you."

Drew felt his hands shake and had to grab the sheets at his sides. She couldn't know what she was saying. She didn't understand, she just thought she did.

Drew didn't know how much she was opening to him when she stated, "Drew, you're an exceptional young man." And then she said sincerely, "Don't worry about what everyone else thinks, just do what you know is right. The consequences will follow."

"What if the consequences are bad?" Drew hardly felt himself saying the words, but they slipped out, quieter than a whisper.

Caroline smiled sadly. "You do what's right anyway."

Drew felt a slightly bitter laugh slip out. "What's the point in that?"

"The point is you," she answered quietly.

Drew turned to her minutely.

Caroline took the silent question. "Every time you do what is right, you become better. Sometimes the consequence is hard, but the reward is always worth more. You just have to be selfless enough to see it."

Drew sighed. To any other child or teenager, this would've been a lecture. But Drew had never been lectured. He had never been loved, he had never been taught right and wrong. He had just done what felt right.

And to him, a lecture from another parent felt like stretching his mind for a memory of love that had never existed.

"Hmm," he whispered.

Caroline smiled. "Think you can handle me knowing?"

Drew barely managed to hold down the sour expression and shrugged.

That sad smile, the same one she had given him for years, again was placed upon him. Drew didn't see it, but he didn't have to.

"Someday… you'll see, like I did, that it doesn't matter. The right people will still be there." She reached across the bed and took his hand. Drew glanced down to it as she continued. "Don't be scared. It's fear that does the real damage."

Drew shifted and felt his palm began to sweat in her grip. He nodded quickly, hoping she would let go, but she didn't. Instead she smiled, without the sadness, and crossed the space between them to hold him.

Drew felt himself choke, on what he wasn't sure; he just knew he could no longer breathe. His hands left the bed but curled at his sides. 'I'm okay now,' he thought. 'Let go.' But she didn't. Slowly he felt surrounded. The feelings passed from shock to fear. He felt caged, trapped. Again his mind offered a mantra. 'Let go.'

Drew tried to breathe and still couldn't. He wasn't sure how long they sat there, without her letting up, but it felt like hours. Slowly (so slowly) the fear began to fade as his mind came to terms with it, and new emotions began to rise in its place. The first was confusion as to why she was hugging him, followed by surprise…

…followed by awe.

Caroline didn't tell him that she knew. That she understood that without parents to love him he had gleaned onto her. She wasn't sure if he was aware of it himself. She knew why he had left. She knew why he couldn't handle the thought of her thinking ill of him. Little by little, his defenses broke down till he was shaking in her arms, still unresponsive and confused.

"Don't worry. It's alright."

Drew's throat filled with emotion. Lightly he pulled at her with the realization, but much like May, and much like with everything else, she lightly held him back and the fight was lost.

Caroline understood something else, something it might take him years to understand… and because of this knowledge she chose to hold him till he showed reaction, till he gave some indication that the words had permeated his mind.

The response came in desperation as he started to pull away, and she knew he was overwhelmed with something he had rarely-if ever-experienced. She held him back anyway and he stopped struggling only to shudder in her grip. "I-I'm okay," he said quietly.

Caroline smiled. Years as a mother made it easy to see through the words. "I know," she answered quietly.

The words threw him. The tone said that she did know… that she _knew_.

Drew's mind began to automatically place her in the space he had never consciously acknowledged he had reserved for her.

The place of a mother.

It was something he had done without realizing it, watching May with her mother. He had often thought that May wouldn't understand because she had Caroline. Because Caroline was a loving mother, and something in him had always lurched at the thought.

Now, held in her arms, he understood what that feeling was.

As he finally began to come to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to let go he felt his muscles relax, but his mind was still spinning. The child in him took over his mind and asked if this is what it would have felt like, and immediately he squelched the thought with panic over something he didn't understand. The war between him and his younger self waged until he took a breath and cleared his mind, and felt her arms around him… and suddenly realized that he still wanted this.

Caroline began to slowly let go, but felt the minute lurch in his body to meet her and stopped.

With the other emotions having faded, having her hold him, it felt good.

Not that he was going to say that.

When Caroline felt the air in the room calm she pulled back. Drew didn't meet her eyes, and his expression gave away little of what he was thinking. The light blush the only indication.

Caroline smiled the sad smile Drew still didn't get, then turned to the wall and sighed in a cheerful manner. Drew's fingers dug into the covers on either side of him. With a smile even in her tone Caroline teased, "I would have asked you to join the family already... but I have a feeling someday you might take care of that for me."

Drew stilled. Slowly he turned to her, absorbing the words and carefully gouging if she might possibly mean what he thought she did.

Caroline smiled and Drew felt a blush spread from what felt like his very core.

"Just don't tell Norman," she said with a smile, and got up. Placing a finger to her mouth in a shushing manner, she said, "Not yet."

Drew swallowed in embarrassment and watched her go. As the door shut behind her a feeling he had never felt before filled him.

When the smile came he couldn't stop it.

* * *

Victor stared intently at the photos before him. It had been hard today, with a couple of his patients, and he was trying to work out how to address their issues. So here he stood, photos laid out in front of him on the table. He lifted one to his gaze, a man in his thirties, and thought hard about what might help him in their next session.

After a few minutes of intent consideration, he placed the photo down and reached for another. This one was of a young woman, Victoria. Vaguely he recognized the photo was a bit old, her blond curls were shorter in the photo.

Blinking, he frowned. An uncomfortable feeling filled him as he stared at it. He was supposed to be thinking about her issues, not her hair.

Or anything else in the photo.

Annoyance hit him, and he placed the photo back on the table. He began to look at others, but his mind strayed back to the photo in the middle. After a moment he groaned in frustration and began to gather the photos back into one pile, unconsciously avoiding hers till it was the only one on the table and he had to face it. He flipped up the picture and held it to his gaze with a frown. The feeling filling him was one he wasn't sure how to name, and wasn't sure he liked either.

Flipping the picture to the pile, and bending it a bit in the process, he reached forward to place them in the box, but stopped.

There was a handkerchief in the box, covering more photos. He blinked and stared at it for one long moment. Then he shook his head. It didn't matter, he told himself. But instead of placing the photos back in the box, he set them aside and reached for the handkerchief.

He removed it and stared at what was unveiled. For a moment he did nothing but stare, brow coming together. As a knock echoed on the door, he pulled up the photos that had been covered. His head tilted to the side and a smile travelled over his lips while his eyes narrowed at the image.

"Victor?"

Victor turned to the voice at the door. Victoria's pretty face stared back at him. His fingers skimmed lightly over a photo as he stared at her. Victoria watched warily.

Then he did something that anybody else would've found strange but Victoria had seen before.

He smirked.

"What can I do for you?"


	20. Chidish and Dangerous

**A/N So! This chapter is shorter than usual, but here it is! Thank you to my new reviewers, again. I want you all to know how much I appreciate all of the reviews. You guys rock.**

**For everyone who doesn't know, I do have a twitter where I post updates (and randomness :P), as well as blog with only one post, and a youtube account-which will soon include fanfiction dedications/trailers...and stuff! :"3 So, you can find links to those at the bottom of my profile. **

**Thank you for reading!**

* * *

At some point we realize we're all insane. Bad men become misunderstood, and good men become questionable. In that moment there are no bad men and no heroes, only characters.

* * *

Drew had come up with a number of ways to deal with the different hardships in his life. In the closet, he would close his eyes and count the time he was to spend there. That had only worked when he was very small, as when he got older the timing became more random and drawn out. Still he would sometimes slip into the same mindset and began to count. There was something about it. A comfort in numbers. A way to distract himself with something that made sense. But at times it could also make him stress, if at all he thought about how much time was left. So he couldn't do that. He could only count.

Otherwise he couldn't handle it.

It was these experiences that molded him to handle the world. They were his only coping mechanisms, and they didn't include confiding in people or crying. These reactions (reactions of tears or frustration) were new, ingrained from childhood and thankfully still so desperately needed that his mind allowed them to come, however difficult it was to accept them. May had pulled what she could from him, and that had at least allowed him to get used to talking about his past on some level, but not deeply.

One of his coping mechanisms he had used right before he had left to emancipate himself. It was rare that his parents addressed him together, but at that time they had. Both had sat him down and sat in front of him.

It was normal to feel like they ran his world, but he felt caged sitting before them, with them on either side. His mind told him there was no escape. They had begun to talk to him about being responsible. Drew didn't know what to do with the words. Without realizing it, his mind began to search for the real reason they were talking to him. It couldn't be about him being responsible so he could be happy, because they had never done that before, and he didn't think they cared if he was happy.

And then his mother interjected and he knew.

It was about her.

He didn't understand it, but he didn't have to. It did nothing to curb his emotions, or to stop the way his legs began to shake and his hands began to clench in his lap.

It had been a long time since he had shaken that way, and he tried to remember what he had done to stop it, to stop the emotions.

Then he remembered. It was possible to turn them off.

So he did, and the shaking stopped.

* * *

Victor woke with his mind spinning and sighed. It had become such a normal experience he hardly noticed anymore. The quiet of the house echoed around him as he rose.

The house was quiet and he hated it, though the feeling was ignored. The vast building was meant to house a family, but it was only his. At one time he had been okay with it, but that time has passed. And now he found himself alone and nearly caring but not enough to move forward.

He had things to do anyway.

* * *

A day of listening to more problems. Did he care? Yes. But within that 'yes' there was a 'no' he couldn't ignore, because it echoed from the emotions that rose when he wasn't looking. Emotions of annoyance, or lack of patience, or tirelessness.

A moment later he would place the emotions aside, smile, and work forward, burying himself in work-in a cause. He supposed he did care, it was normal really, to get tired and frustrated. And it wasn't something that stayed.

Two sessions and on the third, Drew walked through the door, a half smile on his face. Victor nodded in acknowledgment and as always waited for Drew to seat himself. It had been some time, and he grabbed two cups of coffee and brought them with him, sitting on what was always his chair in their sessions.

Drew watched him carefully, much as he had in their last session. Victor wasn't sure what to make of that, so ignored it.

He gestured to the cup beside him. "Go ahead if you'd like."

Drew stared at him a moment longer, then nodded and took the cup, placing it in his lap without drinking any.

"Where were we?" Victor asked, as much to help as to get the conversation moving. The silence was getting to him, and he wasn't sure that he liked it.

Drew stared at him, then said, "I don't remember."

Victor mentally sighed. He should have seen that coming. It had been a pointless question considering he was supposed to take the lead. The sigh was for himself. With a smile he asked, "Was there anything you wanted to talk about?"

The question seemed to get through to him. Drew paused and visibly thought about it, then asked, "Actually yeah."

"Alright."

The tone invited him to continue. Drew opened his mouth, shut it, then shook his head with a barely noticeable sigh. "I'm not sure how to put it."

Victor knew what to say, but it was his own curiosity that fueled it. "Try."

For several moments Drew was quiet, then with an expression that seemed like sad acceptance he shook his head again.

"Why don't we come back to that? …When was the last time you faced the closet?"

Drew hesitated. "A couple weeks ago…. When I found the tape."

Victor nodded slowly. "How did it feel?"

Drew made a strange expression, nearing bitterness. "I can't explain it." A moment of silence and Drew continued. "I…I ignored it."

Victor blinked. He tried to figure out how to word, 'how did you both face it and ignore it?' but Drew noticed the expression. Under his breath he muttered, "I closed my eyes."

Victor tried to wrap his mind around it. It was interesting that he had done both.

Drew sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"That's quite impressive," he said finally.

Drew stopped, mid motion, and turned to him. "It is?" he asked. The words obviously slipped without his monitoring them.

Victor nodded. He opened his mouth to say more, but came up short when Drew blinked and again gave him a strange stare, one he wasn't sure how to word, as if he had just realized that was what he was supposed to be doing.

Victor sighed and set his coffee down. "Alright…" he started slowly.

Drew blinked, this time in confusion, but didn't say anything as Victor looked at him again and asked in the kindest tone he could. "Is there something you'd like to talk to me about?"

Drew paused.

The air in the room suddenly changed. Victor sighed. "You've been looking at me strangely," he said bluntly.

Drew slowly bit his lip. "Sorry."

"It's not that there's anything to apologize for. I only worry whatever thought you're having is interrupting our sessions."

Drew seemed to pull in on himself.

The action made him curious, even as he knew they needed to address it. "What is it?" And then he asked calmly. "Have I said something that's made you uncomfortable? I'm more than willing to talk with you about it."

Drew wanted to address it, if only because it felt so wrong, despite what he kept trying to tell himself. "It's… not really what was said."

"…Something I've done?"

Drew wondered if he was pushing it, but Victor had given him an in that was impossible to ignore. Gathering his wits he looked at Victor fully. "Last week."

Victor stared at him. "Alright."

A hint of frustration arose, and Drew pushed forward. "Were you… Was she your patient?"

Victor was calm but the confusion came in the twitch of his brow and the emotion that slipped into his eyes. For a moment he only stared, then he whispered, "She?"

Drew wasn't sure how to take what Victor was doing. Did he really not know what he was referring to? It couldn't be that difficult to draw the parallels. At the end of his rope, he said, "The girl you were kissing."

Victor blinked several times in succession, then made an expression that was almost comically confused. "You…You saw me kiss someone?"

The confusion was contagious, because suddenly Drew felt it too. Victor's expression stayed the same, until he rose a hand to head and winced, rubbing lightly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

The statement left Drew with a strange sense of emptiness. He seemed sincere, in a way that wasn't faked. So either he was a very good liar, which was a distinct possibility, or… what?

Victor brought his other hand to his head and began to massage it on the other side as well.

"Are… Are you alright?" Drew asked, wary of the strange way he was acting.

Victor nodded vaguely, but when he didn't speak again for several more moments, Drew knew something was wrong. "Are you alright?" he asked again.

This time Victor didn't acknowledge him.

Drew stood slowly. It was strange, to watch his psychologist phase out in such a manner, but the moment didn't leave much time for him to contemplate it. "I'll get…"

Victor raised his hand and let out a deep breath. Then with a sigh, he raised his head from his other hand and offered a half smile. "Don't worry," he said in a voice that sounded just a bit scratchy. "Just a head ache."

'Something's wrong.'

The feeling hit him hard.

Drew wasn't sure what to think, but he knew, in a way his mind didn't understand, that something was wrong. It was something he could feel but put no words to. A feeling that came instantly the moment Victor raised his head from his hand. And as Victor stared at him, Drew felt the feeling hum through the air between them.

The feeling was one of danger. One rarely speaks in such a situation, and so Drew didn't, as everything in him declared something wrong.

And then Victor motioned to the chair. "Sit down. I apologize."

The instant calmness to follow such a drastic head ache was strange in a way that was not ignorable. Victor stared back at him, much as he always did, and still something in him said that this was different. It was something in his posture, or his demeanor. Something off, just barely so. His eyes conveyed the same concentration they usually did, but Victor had a way of holding back, of staring at him while somehow respecting his space. The way he was looking at him now, was far more intent. And Drew couldn't word it…

But it felt wrong.

Seeing the hand still outstretched to the chair, Drew swallowed lightly and sat down.

Victor smiled vaguely and picked up the pad on the floor beside the table. "Now, where were we?"

Victor never used the pad.

How was it that everything was the same and still so different?

_What_ was different?

Drew remained silent and Victor's eyes narrowed. He looked to the pad and seemed to appraise it. Drew watched him warily. Victor had never done that before either.

Victor stayed focused on the pad and flipped the previous pages over then raised an eyebrow. To himself he muttered, "Nothing yet? Why flip them?"

Then feeling Drew's gaze on him he looked up again and smiled. "Sorry. Go on."

Drew realized then that he was shaking.

This time, there wasn't anything to turn off. He wasn't just thinking. His mind didn't understand what was happening, so he couldn't faze out, he had to understand it first, or think he understood it.

Victor raised an eyebrow and on impulse Drew swallowed. The gaze stayed intently on him.

For a moment silence filled the space between them, till Drew's discomfort and Victor's change were impossible to ignore.

"Problem?" Victor asked in a whisper.

The way the word was said took away any previous notions Drew had that he was imagining things.

The tone was soaked in danger, as if daring him to agree.

Still, Drew didn't understand what was happening.

There is a strange irony to the human species. While gaining the mentality of a creature that is able to work, and create, and destroy, and improve in a way no other animal in the world can, they forget that they are still, in their most basic senses, animals.

Animals have instinct. Animals feel changes but don't voice them. The way a dog will bark at a human that radiates danger but glean to the side of a sweet tempered person they've never met. The idea itself profoundly states that there is something more that emanates from a person then what they say, or what they convey in body language.

_Who_ a person is, can be felt, can be seen, can be feared, without them announcing the danger.

And at the core of the human, there are moments that we feel these instincts. Instincts that tell us 'something's wrong.'

Perhaps the only reason it has faded for us in comparison to animals, is that, thinking ourselves intelligent, we reject that which does not make sense or cannot be proven. But there are some times when an instinct is so overbearing that it cannot be silenced.

This was one of those times.

Drew didn't understand it, but something in him did.

Drew blinked and looked to the table. He hadn't realized he had faded out till Victor placed the pad down between them, no words on the paper. Drew looked up to find him sitting back in the chair, still staring at him in that same intense way, silently.

Drew swallowed. The air began to slowly calm, and he whispered, "Were we going to have a session?"

Victor blinked slowly and didn't answer. Then he smiled, and his posture relaxed. He glanced to the clock on the wall. "Your session's more than half way over."

Drew didn't look, it seemed far less important than what he was currently looking at. "Oh."

Victor looked back to him, and in an instant the feeling faded. Something was still off, but there was no warning, no underlying fear. It left so quickly, Drew began to wonder what he had been feeling…

…and if he had just imagined the whole thing.

Drew still didn't speak. Victor winced and for the second time raised a hand to his forehead.

Drew frowned, feeling uncomfortable as he watched.

Victor dropped the hand and sighed, his posture slackening, then looked up at Drew again.

And suddenly he smiled.

Drew didn't know what to think with the smile that was on him. The different emotions had passed so quickly that it was impossible to know what to think. Now Victor was smiling at him, but as Drew's expression showed his emotion the smile faded to a frown.

Victor swallowed, and in a voice much quieter than Drew had ever heard asked, "Where were we?"

This felt normal.

"We…We were just saying the session's half over," Drew whispered, finding that to be the only thing to say.

Victor glanced to the wall. "So it is," he whispered.

Drew didn't mention that Victor had been the one to state it.

He shook his head. "Well…" looking back to Drew he smiled and looked again at the pad. His gaze went to Drew but quickly switched back to it. He shook his head again. "What do you want to talk about?"

Drew shrugged lightly. He was out of words. He wasn't sure what had just happened. Everything had gone by in what felt like a blur. There wasn't a word for what had happened, but something _had_ happened.

Victor looked back to the pad. "Okay… how 'bout… sports?" He looked back to Drew expectantly.

Drew stared at him in confusion. "Sports…?" he asked blankly.

Victor winced. "Um…never mind. Your…family?"

Drew's confusion mounted, and it showed on his face. Why was Victor asking him about these things? He knew these answers. They had talked about it before.

Finally Victor sighed, and continuing his track of being completely out of character, he dropped his head to his hand and lent on the arm of the chair. "Forget it."

When looking up and finding Drew still staring at him he rolled his eyes and sat back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Most people would have just thrown something at me by now. You're here to vent right? Vent."

Drew almost felt like being amused, but it was tempered by his confusion. Victor was always gentle about the way he probed. Not like this. He looked almost like he was pouting, and it was an expression Drew had never imagined he would see on Victor's face.

"Are you alright?" Drew found himself asking again, his body still.

Victor glanced to him and rolled his eyes. "You're more aware than he gives you credit for."

He?

Drew blinked, not knowing what to do with the sentence. Despite himself, his curiosity was growing steadily.

"You can leave if you want to. I don't feel good today."

But Drew didn't want to leave, not now. Not now that his curiosity was peaked, that his mind was running rampid with questions and his psychologist was pouting like a child. He shook his head. He was surprised when Victor looked annoyed.

"Why not?"

Drew shrugged lightly. Before he could come up with a suitable response Victor jumped from his chair and stalked across the room to the windows, glancing over the high view of the city before turning and making his way to the bookshelves. "Fine. I'll do work. It'll be boring."

Again, the words were phrased in such a way that Victor would never phrase them, as if by a child. Drew leaned in his chair and turned as Victor passed him on his way to the wall shelves, pulling four books at random into his arms and taking them to the desk. He dropped them loudly, then opened the first and thumbed through it.

Drew's eyes were wide.

What was this?

A few minutes passed and Victor looked up at him carefully, then groaned. "Why aren't you leaving? There's nothing to do here!" He motioned to the desk with both hands. "It's boring!"

Drew's eyes followed the actions and found one of the books to be one that Victor often had sitting on his desk.

He noticed those things.

Drew glanced back up to Victor and took in his expression. Looking between his eyes he stated carefully. "You must love that book. Now it's boring?"

Victor blinked rapidly, as if Drew had said something in a different language, then looked down at the books in the pile. Tilting his head, he pulled the first from the top of the pile and winced. In a tone of honest detest he whispered, "I hate that book."

The tone got to him, but the curiosity was to a point that it would not be silenced. "Then…why is it always on your desk?" Drew asked.

Victor swiftly raised his head and glared. "It's not always on _my_ desk," he spat with detest.

The glare would've stopped him, except it came across much as the harsh words did, honestly but in a way that didn't reach him. As if he were merely a child complaining.

Drew swallowed. "Yes, it is…. I notice these things. OCD…or something."

Victor continued to glare at him. Drew wondered if he would jump on Drew following up with the possibility that he had OCD, as had been mentioned in previous sessions, but Victor only glared and seeming to ignore the statement said again, "It's not… _my_ desk."

Drew blinked, realizing that he had misunderstood the statement before. This time he didn't try to hide the confusion. Perhaps all of the strange things from the morning were wearing him down; instead of asking a question that would make sense, he pointed out the obvious. "Yes it is."

Victor glared at him, looking now annoyed. "_No._ It's not."

Drew blinked at him, not realizing they had started a very childish sounding conversation. On automatic he looked to the desk and stared at the metal stand with the words 'Victor Vanrae.'

Victor followed his gaze and sneered. "And?"

Again, Drew pointed out the obvious. "And… _you're_ Victor Van-"

"Jackson," Victor cut him off.

Drew blinked. "What?"

Victor looked up at him and Drew froze with the intensity. "It's Jackson."

The air in the room froze.

Perhaps he wasn't pointing out the obvious.


	21. Jackson

**A/N Aha. That bad? X3 Or are all of you on Spring Break? Wooh! :) Thank you to my reviewers! I hope you all enjoy the update! I'm sorry I've been so slow these last couple of months. My goal will be to update the next chapter in the next week. :) I would like to especially thank "Pear-Shaped," who wrote and dedicated a oneshot to me! ^-^ And it was a great read so I recommend it! Thank you!  
**

**And here it is! More of Jackson! :) With more coming soon!  
Enjoy! And remember to review!  
**

Drew's eyes widened. "What?" he asked again. A pointless question, but the only one he could form in his complete confusion.

Victor, or Jackson, continued to glare at him. "Do I really have to repeat myself?" he asked in a whisper.

Drew swallowed. He began to feel caged, and instantly thought back to being placed before his parents. He shook his head to clear the thought and warily looked back to Victor. "You…are you saying…"

Victor rolled his eyes, and sat down in the chair behind the desk. Once seated, he pushed the books he had placed upon the desk to the floor and leaned back in the chair in such a way that he could balance his feet on the edge of the desk. "Victor's not here."

Drew felt his mouth dry. It was a strange feeling, to be sitting in front of something he had only seen in movies, and in movies the disorder was exaggerated.

Was that how it was in real life?

Victor, Jackson, Drew reminded himself, looked up at Drew after staring pointlessly at his feet and gave a lopsided expression. "You scared yet?"

The tone and phrase was far different than the way Victor usually spoke, but there was something in the expression Drew managed to catch despite his discomfort. Something like bitterness in the twist of Victor's mouth.

Drew swallowed again, and shook his head. "I'm fine," he whispered.

Jackson sneered, "I can tell."

Unceremoniously he stood and started to pull out the drawers behind the desk and look through them. He seemed far more relaxed than he had been, and as Drew stared he asked, "I've never met you before. How long has Victor been your psychologist?"

The last sentence made Drew squirm. The question was coming from Victor, but it wasn't, and his mind still didn't quite understand that.

Jackson paused and looked up at him expectantly.

Automatically Drew froze and answered. "A-A few months now."

Jackson looked at him curiously. "Huh," he remarked, then went back to the drawer he was searching through. "Well, here's your folder."

Drew stiffened. For some reason, the thought had never occurred to him that he would have something like a folder, much in the way having his psychologist take notes on a pad didn't appeal to him. Their sessions had been so casual, that he hadn't thought of them in that context. It seemed that Victor was merely waiting till he left to take notes.

Jackson walked around the desk with the open folder and sat on edge, looking at it intently. "Says here your mom was crazy." He looked up at Drew expectantly as if he had only mentioned something as casual as the weather.

Drew felt his extremities numb and couldn't answer him. Several seconds later Jackson continued to watch calmly and Drew nodded shakily. Jackson nodded and looked back to the pad. "Hmm…. You're actually quite boring. No wait-" he paused and lifted the folder into the air. "You've got a list of things going for you. They're in the back now. You're scared of closets? That's kind of weird."

Drew's hands tightened to fists in his lap. His other emotions began to give way to a feeling of embarrassed anger. As he came to accept what was happening, he began to feel the urge make Jackson stop talking. He had told that Victor, and it hadn't been easy. He knew how crazy it sounded. Making light of it… was something he couldn't sit still through, even while his embarrassment tempered the anger. "It isn't," he whispered.

Jackson paused and looked up at him. "Isn't what?"

"It isn't weird!"

Jackson blinked at the sudden hostility from Drew, who now stared at him daringly.

Drew clenched his teeth, and in his emotion stated his frustration with the situation and with Jackson. "If anything is weird, it's this."

He didn't have to say what 'this' was.

Jackson adopted a bored but irritated expression and placed the folder down at his side. "Well, sorry. Didn't know a closet would be such a touchy subject."

Drew's mouth dropped open. Jackson stared at him with the same expression and suddenly everything came together around him.

His psychologist was crazy.

Everything could be narrowed down to those four words. Somewhere in his mind he knew that they were a cruel representation of what Victor was going through, a disorder worse than his own. But staring at the man, all he was able to think was that this was his _psychologist_. This was the man that was supposed to help him. How could he do that if he couldn't help himself?

Drew felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. It wasn't quite as scary now, with Jackson-or Victor-staring at him blankly and speaking in a childish tone. His blond hair was falling into his eyes from all of his jerky movements, whereas with Victor the hair stayed neatly in place (though it wasn't a primped hairstyle). His eyes were the same. His features were the same. But the way Jackson looked at him was different. The way he held himself was different. He really did seem like a completely different person.

It was terrifying. Terrifying because it was strange. Because it was something he had never experienced before.

Because anything could happen.

"I'm going to go," Drew whispered.

Jackson's eyes narrowed to watch him rise from the chair. "Why?" he asked.

Drew's expression wavered. "I'm just leaving. I…I came for a session."

Jackson paused. "So…"

Drew swallowed. "You're not Victor…. You're not my psychologist."

Jackson blinked while Drew backed up, then to Drew's surprise he openly smiled, a smile so bright Victor would never use it if he were himself, and set the book down on the desk. "I like you," he announced. He slid from the desk and made his way across the room. Drew felt the need to back into the wall as Jackson neared him, but hadn't quite reached the thought to move when Jackson made it to him and pulled up his hands. Drew looked at them with a baffled expression and Jackson continued to smile then tilt his head to the side, one side of his smile pulling into a youthful but lighthearted smirk. "I'm Jackson."

Drew swallowed. "I… I got that part."

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that. Nice to meet you though." He raised an eyebrow and gave Drew a onceover, as if only now taking time to meet him and take him in. "Is your full name Andrew?"

Drew looked awkwardly to the hands still held in Jackson's grip and shook his head. He wondered if Victor had ever considered what was being asked. "No. It's um… just 'Drew.'"

Jackson nodded decisively and dropped Drew hands, instead holding out one before him. "Nice to meet you."

Drew looked warily to the hand and slowly held out one to meet him, nearly missing the way Jackson's smile broadened right before their hands met. Instead of looking at Drew, he looked at their hands. "Great."

Jackson took just a moment too long to pull away, then turned and walked back to the chair Victor usually used and sat down. He looked at Drew expectantly till Drew understood that he wanted him to sit as well, and did so warily. "How old are you?" Jackson asked curiously.

"Seventeen," Drew muttered.

"Huh," Jackson shrugged. "You're kind of old. Older than you look anyway."

Drew blinked.

He turned to the pad and pulled it up. "How come there's no writing on this?"

Drew wasn't sure how to answer. This was something Victor should know. Victor would know. It was his pad. But this… this was Jackson. Drew felt awkward as he replied, "Victor doesn't use the pad."

Jackson looked up at him. "Yeah, he does."

"He does?" Drew found himself muttering. Was this Victor showing through, or just something Jackson knew? Was there a difference?

Jackson didn't seem to care about his expression now and nodded. "That's how a lot of the notes in the folders come. Yellow pages like this one." He waved the pad.

"Oh…. Well, he never uses it in front of me… So…"

Jackson made an "ah" expression. "Oh." He looked back to the pad. "That's why there's no writing in the sessions."

Drew raised an eyebrow. His curiosity peaked. "Do you… come up in a lot of sessions?"

Jackson paused and blinked at the pad then looked up at Drew warily. Slowly he stated, "That's… a weird way to say it."

Drew felt the barest of blushes starting. "Then… what should I call it?" He wondered immediately if he should have asked the question. It made the experience far more real.

Jackson looked up, as if considering. "We call it switching."

Drew blinked and Jackson looked down to him again with a smile. "When I switch," he prompted.

An uncomfortable feeling started in Drew's stomach, but he ignored it and nodded. Jackson didn't seem offended, or even dangerous as he had, so Drew reiterated the question. "Yeah, um, how often do you…switch, in sessions?"

Jackson shrugged. "Not that often. I usually switch at home, but sometimes I switch here, if someone brings up something he doesn't want to talk about."

Drew felt awed, despite the circumstance. "What…What sort of things?" he asked.

Jackson paused, and there was an obvious change in his attitude from relaxed to subdued. He looked down and shrugged. "Things." Drew could swear he saw the barest of shudders go through Victor's body and it kept him from asking more.

Then Jackson forced a smile and looked back at him. "But you're new. For me, anyway. You've really been coming that long?"

Drew nodded.

"Weird." Jackson looked suddenly very bothered, and it was such a chilling expression that Drew quickly spoke with whatever would come out of his mouth first. But Jackson cut him off with a sigh, witching from irritated to resigned in a heartbeat. "Okay, I know this is weird for you, but since you know, you're going to be seeing more of me." He smiled, though it looked slightly pained. "So I want to talk to you."

"Why…Why will I be seeing more of you?" Drew asked. While it somehow made sense, another part of his mind adamantly declared he did not want to meet Jackson again.

"Because no one else knows."

Something about that statement echoed emotion, and Drew felt himself still while Jackson continued.

"I want to talk to you. You seem... safe."

Drew didn't know what to think of the last part of the sentence.

"What if…What if I told someone?" he asked in a whisper.

Jackson's brow came together as if surprised then offended. Both emotions gave way to irritated anger. "Why would you do that?" Drew stopped himself from pointing out the obvious. He didn't have to though, as Jackson rushed on before he could answer. His tone bordered on panic. "You can't tell anyone. They wouldn't believe you anyway."

Drew frowned. "Why wouldn't they believe me?"

Jackson raised an eyebrow as if it were obvious. "Because I'm your psychologist. …Well, I mean, I'm not your psychologist, but you know."

Drew stiffened. Jackson didn't seem to have any evil intentions, but he had just pointed out one drastic truth.

Victor was his psychologist.

So if Jackson did something, said something, wrote something about him to defend himself, everyone else would take it as truth, wouldn't they? Would he be the one marked off as crazy, no matter what he said?

Jackson blinked. "Sorry."

Drew shook his head. In mid motion he stopped, his gaze landing on the folder still on the desk.

"…_your mom's crazy."_

Wait…. This had been what she had.

This had been her disorder.

Drew turned slowly back to Victor and intently took Jackson in. Is this what it had been like for her?

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"You're…You're just like her," Drew whispered.

"Like who?"

"My…mother."

Jackson stared at him, then stood, turning on his heal to the windows. "Nope."

"What-What do you mean, 'no?'"

Jackson stiffened, and the only giveaway was the tightening of his hands on his arms behind his back. "She's crazy. The folder said she abused you."

Drew felt his stomach lurch and quickly raised a hand to his mouth. The reaction was completely unexpected. The statement, said so casually, from someone who didn't understand, only added to the sick feeling.

Jackson glanced back at him and Drew looked up, hand still over his mouth. Jackson's eyes darted down to his hand, and for a moment Drew could believe that it was only Victor looking at him, appraising the reasoning for his actions, then Jackson looked back at his eyes and the thought fled. "I'm not crazy," he stated.

Drew's brow came together. He didn't know what to do. Hand still over his mouth, he shook his head 'no,' to agree. Apparently, Jackson didn't quite understand the affirmative. He turned with a frown.

"I'm not! I've never hurt anyone!"

Drew swallowed and dropped the hand shakily. "Yeah," he whispered.

Jackson's mouth pulled to the side. He glanced at the clock and sighed. "Your sessions over."

Drew looked at the clock and jumped to his feet. Jackson frowned with the movement. "When's your next session?"

Drew paused. "Same time… next week."

Jackson nodded, and with the slightest of smiles pulling at his lips stated, "See you then."

Drew swallowed and nodded.

* * *

"How was your session?"

Drew looked at May numbly. A million thoughts ran through his head. A strange expression pulled at his mouth and he shrugged.

May blinked and dropped the shirt she had been holding to basket on the floor with the others. "What's wrong?"

Drew sighed. He didn't know what to say. He still didn't know what to think. For weeks he had been going to see a psychologist with an identity disorder. He wasn't quite sure yet, what that said for him. He did feel like he was making progress, but… he was holding it up against a man with a disorder worse than his. So… what should he think?

Over ruling these thoughts was the idea that Victor had an issue, a big one. The thought came. He wondered if he should say something. Do something. A moment later he would dismiss the idea. Some part of him would think over what Victor had said as Jackson, that he was his psychologist. Drew wasn't sure why the idea sent fear through him. Instantly the thought that he should say something was tempered.

He wasn't sure that he should, or even could.

"Drew?" Drew looked at May, who was now leaning over slightly to meet his gaze. "Are you alright?"

Drew sighed at the question. "I'm fine."

May pursed her lips and straitened. "All right," she said with a sigh.

Drew looked up at her questioningly, but she turned before their eyes could meet.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" she asked, leaning over again to pull clothes out of the basket.

Drew considered for a moment, then calmly shook his head. "Um, no. Not tonight."

May paused. "Alright."

Drew offered a half smile May didn't see. He felt overwhelmed, and his mind needed a break. The thought of going home and doing nothing appealed to him, in a way he couldn't explain. It was more than needing a break. Whereas his home had made him feel lonely as of late, the idea of going home now felt like relief.

* * *

Drew had to wonder why he had felt that way when he opened the door to darkness. When silence was his greeting rather than May's bright inquiries.

Despite the fact that it was only roughly seven o'clock, and that he never slept before eleven, he suddenly felt very tired. The air in the room around him was stifling. Something uncomfortable was shifting in his stomach, making him feel as though something unexpected may jump from the many shadows and surprise him. It would be far more expected than what he had experienced already.

Drew scaled the stairs more quickly than usual, not stopping to put his coat away till he was up the stairs, safely in his parent's room.

"Safely" was a word that didn't apply this time. Drew paused once he had passed the threshold and glanced around the room, his gaze pausing first on the bed. Without realizing it his eyes darted to beneath it, then strayed to the closet. His gaze stayed on the door far longer than he had taken the time to appraise it in the past.

The first step into the room felt painful, as if he was walking into his own cage. He didn't understand the feeling, but his emotions were running the evening-not his head.

When he reached the bed he realized he was still wearing his shoes and coat. Automatically he considered scaling the stairs to place them where they belonged, but something jumped in his chest at the thought. Slowly he leaned down and began to undo the laces and then remove his jacket. Upon completion he stared at the items awkwardly and then glanced to the closet. His mother began to lecture him in the back of his head. That was where they went, she said. Not strewn about the floor like a lazy child. Drew's hands shook at his sides. He reached down and picked up the shoes then turned to the closet.

And instantly realized how stupid it was.

The shadows around him that were housing the mental villains seemed to laugh as he stared at a door that couldn't hurt him but he couldn't stop fearing. The darkness of the room was suddenly far denser than it had been. Voices reached from the corners and under the bed and lectured him as his mother's voice had. They laughed. Laughed at the ridiculousness of his fear. And still there were others. Others that said not to listen. The closet was an evil place. A place that for him would cause memories. Memories of things he never wanted to see or remember. It was a place he could get locked in. Locked forever. Nobody would care. Nobody would find him.

His forever would be a closet.

Drew didn't hear the jacket or the shoes hit the floor. He raised his hands to his eyes. "No," he whispered. And much as the denial of his childhood, the word began to repeat in an endless mantra, "No, no, no, no, no."

And still the laughing continued.

He wasn't crazy. He knew the laughing wasn't really there. But he felt it. He felt his mind telling him that he was weak, that he was stupid, that he was afraid of stupid, weak things. And in his state, the darkness reached for him like the monsters that he always believed in as a child. The monsters no parent had ever told him didn't exist. The dreams no person had ever comforted him from afterwards.

As a child, it was hard not to lie in bed in the dead of night with terror coursing through him, and not think that the darkness around him was coming to get him, and that perhaps he wasn't in his bed, but in a closet. A dark closet, where he was trapped, where nobody loved him, and nobody who did would think to look.

It was all so stupid.

And all so completely a part of him.

The hands slipped back to his eyes and he swallowed a sob. Why had this hit him now?

He should have stayed. He should have stayed with May. In the house that was always bright, the place where everyone was always smiling and people loved him.

Drew suddenly froze, his entire body stiffening in one beat.

People loved him.

It had been the first time he had thought that.

May loved him.

In whatever way, however, he remembered her words echoing around him. _"You can't hate someone I love."_

Drew shuddered as emotion left him, as the world began to still. He still couldn't move. He could still feel his own self-deprecation. But just beyond the reach of his depression was a hand held, memories of a family that cared for him and included him, even if they didn't know what that meant to him.

And then he remembered something else. He remembered Caroline hugging him while he pulled away, and Norman raising an amused and irritated eyebrow when finding that Caroline allowed him in May's room. And that was followed by a young Max laughing in the hallway and teasing them from behind a door, as that was as close as he could get.

And after that was every memory with May, from her waving to him across a hallway while he stubbornly ignored her, to her laying across her bed while he stood over her and they both laughed at something completely unrelated to the homework she was supposed to be doing.

And again, her words, as she stood crying while he berated himself.

Drew felt something warm begin to spread through him, without him realizing it, pushing out the other emotions till they were still there but mattered far less-till the warm something overshadowed them. Slowly he dropped his hands and found his coat and shoes lying on the ground before him. The room was forgotten as he stared at them, and thought of something else entirely. For several moments he did nothing, then for the first time in his life since he had been very young, he left them there and turned back to the bed, crawling in without thinking about the mess that he had left.

He would have to pick them up later that night, but in that moment he was okay.

Drew spent a lot of time with May and her family during the week that followed, doing anything he could to keep his mind off of Victor-or Jackson. It was something he didn't know how to handle. In the past he had simply ignored what he couldn't deal with. But he couldn't do that with Jackson.

Still his mind tried to.

It was a hard lesson to learn, that there were some things he couldn't block out. Things that he had to deal with because he had to make some sort of a decision. As a child there had been no decision to make. Just him and everything he hated. He had to find ways to handle it, and for the most part that included him closing his eyes and turning off his emotions.

It occurred to him a couple of days into the week.

Why did he have to make a decision? It would be the right thing to do, certainly, for Victor. But Victor had been handling it himself for a long time. He wasn't doing anything wrong. He wasn't hurting anyone, as 'Jackson' had boldly declared.

Why tell anyone?

Why make the difficult and dangerous decision to do something when Jackson would simply prove him wrong with a yellow pad?

And why should it matter? If he was handling himself, if he was okay, was it really a problem?

It was a serious question he asked himself. He had his ways of coping, and maybe this was just Victor's.

And if he wasn't doing anything wrong, why chance something so important?

That was his reasoning. It filled him with guilt.

But it worked.

* * *

"Welcome."

Drew blinked when he walked in and saw something he had never walked in to before.

Victor was sitting on the desk, a pleased smirk on his face, leaning back as if he had been waiting.

Drew realized instantly that it was Jackson.

Jackson smiled openly and pushed from the desk. "Hey."

Drew swallowed. "Hey."

It had taken some mental motivation to get himself to come back to the session at all. But he didn't see very many other options if he was going to ignore the problem.

Jackson crossed the room and sat in one of the chairs, leaning over his knees. "So, I've got some questions."

Drew hadn't moved from the door.

"Sit down."

When Drew didn't move Jackson rolled his eyes and stood. "Really. I'm not going to bite your head off."

He took a step towards Drew and Drew twitched. Jackson paused, frowned, then smirked. "Though I could."

Drew offered a half smile that in no way reached his eyes. Jackson rolled his eyes again. "C'mon, sit down."

Drew let out a breath and nodded, taking the short steps towards him to join him on the opposite chair. It was something his mind complained against as he walked towards him. Drew tried to ignore it, and managed to quell it enough till he was sitting and Jackson was smiling at him once again.

"When's your birthday?"

Drew blinked.

Jackson waved him off. "Not for any weird reason. I just want to know how old you are."

"A couple of weeks."

Jackson nodded. "You'll be an adult," he stated with a strange tone.

Drew raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. …So?"

Jackson shrugged. "It's weird."

Drew blinked. "Well… I've been emancipated for three years. So… It hardly makes a difference for me."

Jackson blinked. "Three years? So you were fourteen?"

"Fifteen," Drew answered.

"Wow." Jackson stated flatly.

Drew had already told this to Victor, so for Jackson to be surprised was something he didn't know how to respond to.

"That must've been hard."

Drew shrugged.

"What did you do when you emancipated yourself?"

Drew paused. This was something he didn't want to talk about. A fifteen year old with no home and nowhere to go hadn't been the highlight of his life. Being out of his home had made it worth it, but he had never admitted to anyone how lost he felt when he left. When he walked outside on a dark windy night and thought, 'What now?' How everything had hit him so suddenly even though he had tried to prepare for it in all the time it took him to get emancipated. But it hadn't prepared him. Not for the feeling of being alone, of having to suddenly support himself and be legally an adult while anyone hiring still saw him as a child.

And then there was the embarrassment that followed when people would ask why he had emancipated himself, or when possible employers would want to know if he had ever been involved in drugs or gangs. And then the panic of realizing he would have to tell May. That she would ask, or go by his house and she would tell her family, and what would they think of him then?

Jackson blinked at him. Drew shook his head and whispered, "I… got a job."

Jackson sat back and raised an eyebrow. "That's it?

Drew's brow came together, frustration hitting him. "What's it?"

"That. There has to be more to it than that. I mean, what-you got a job? Just like that? And that's the end of it?"

Drew swallowed. "I…I stayed with May's family for a bit."

"Oh. Who's May?"

He had forgotten about that.

"My friend."

Jackson looked between his eyes carefully. "Huh." He sat up. "Well, you're boring at explaining."

Drew frowned. "It's not supposed to be a good story. It's my life."

Jackson nodded. "And if you tell it right, it's the best story."

Drew blinked.

"So what else?"

Drew suddenly realized how very interested Jackson was in him. "Why do you want to know?"

Jackson paused. "Well… ah…" He raised one hand to the back of his head and ruffled his hair. "…I don't talk to a lot of people."

Drew paused and for a moment just took Jackson in and thought hard. Jackson was staring at the floor, still with his hand in his hair. He took it out a moment later and placed his hand in his lap but still didn't look at Drew. With the way he was acting, though technically Victor was older than he was, it was hard not to see a child in him, or to almost think of him as a child.

There was still a knowledge that Jackson had some power over him if he wanted it, but Drew wasn't seeing that happening.

"…_I don't talk to a lot of people." _What did that mean? It was like he was alone, like he never got to talk to anyone, even though Drew knew that technically he was Victor, so technically he talked to everyone. This part of Victor felt different.

"At least…" he muttered. "…nobody knows it's me."

Drew tried to swallow the empathy he felt rising. For years he had been alone, and even when he had friends, he had felt like they didn't understand him, or they wouldn't if he told them everything. This was similar, in a lot of ways. It was almost like this was the real Victor, a part of himself he hadn't shown to other people. A part Drew had certainly never seen, shy, but brash and flamboyant.

So… what had kept him from sharing that part of himself? And then Drew wondered if he was relating Victor a little too much to himself. It might not be what Victor was going through at all.

That didn't change that 'Jackson' seemed to feel alone.

"Oh," he found himself saying quietly.

Jackson looked up at him and gave him an awkward smile. "I just… I was curious."

That Drew understood, but it still felt awkward.

"Maybe…Maybe we could talk about something else?"

Jackson blinked. "Like what?"

Drew swallowed. "How about… How about sports?"

Jackson blinked again, and then he smiled.

Drew wondered if Jackson had the faintest idea he was repeating Victor's own words.


	22. Sorry

**A/N My goal was to update this chapter last Wednesday, the Monday before that I also said on my twitter that I was responding to reviews. I'm sorry that neither of those things happened at that time. I live in the USA, and on that Monday if you haven't heard of it, there was a bombing in Boston. 3 people were killed and nearly two hundred injured. Needless to say, the event hit me and I was not in the right mindset to write or to write to my reviewers. So I'm sorry for the wait, and I'd like to request that you all keep them in your prayers, and, as well as many have stated, the lives of others in the world who face this as well. I wrote about half of this chapter right after the bombing so I was distracted. I apologize if anything is out of place.  
**

**So, now that that is over with, thank you so much for sticking with my story. Here is the next chapter. We are reaching the final... installment, you could call it, of this story. Thank you to my reviewers who continue to give me feedback. It means a lot to me. **

**Thanks!**

* * *

May kicked at the bench leg and raised her head to the ceiling. She was waiting for Drew, in the hallway lined with benches that worked as a waiting room as well. Usually she wouldn't come, as she knew how uncomfortable it had made him in the past. Truthfully, she didn't know why she was there. Something had pushed her, made her want to be there though she didn't know why. She wanted to wait for him, and the want was followed by a desperate feeling she didn't understand.

She wanted to be part of it.

As she had done repeatedly in the last half hour, May glanced to the clock again. It was several minutes past the end of his session, and he still wasn't out. She had wondered in passing if she had somehow missed him, but with how anxiously she was watching it really wasn't possible. So then she wondered, why was he still there? She knew she shouldn't worry, that it was silly. Still she couldn't help but think of him up in the office with Victor, possibly uncomfortable, possibly emotional, possibly having a hard time. Possibilities that he would leave behind him the moment he left the room. He would lie, to her and to himself about what he was going through, and she wouldn't know. She would keep worrying, not knowing how he was doing, or how far he was coming along.

And she still wasn't sure what it was about that that bothered her. It was more than the thought of him being sad, though that was a large portion of it. She just knew that whatever it was made her want to be here, to wait for him, to hopefully be there for him in some way.

The door opened and May watched eagerly. It was the fourth time it had happened and she sighed when the man that came through the door was as far from the green haired, brightly dressed Drew as possible. It took her a moment to realize that though it wasn't Drew she _had_ met him before. He turned to someone behind him and backed up and finally she saw Drew come through the door. He looked a little uncomfortable but was half smiling as the man before him smiled brightly.

"It's Victor," May whispered to herself, and smiled. Drew was there. And the bright expression on someone who was supposed to be a psychologist was encouraging. May stood and made her way to the two of them. She hesitated only once, worried about how he would respond, then took a brave breath and moved forward.

"Drew?"

Drew blinked and turned to her, his eyes widened. "May! You-"

"Oh. May."

Drew twitched as Victor smiled, and May looked from Drew to him with a calm smile and nodded.

Victor glanced at Drew who still hadn't moved and ducked around his side to smile at May. "Nice to meet you," he said, hand outstretched.

May blinked. "Uh, yeah," she said, surprised. They had met before, but she didn't put much thought to it, turning back to Drew. "Is this okay?"

Drew glanced at Victor. "Um, yeah…It's fine. We should go."

To her surprise, though his tone was level, he took her by the arm and began to make his way to the front doors. May looked back to Victor as they went and sent him an apologetic expression. "Nice to meet you," she echoed.

Victor nodded with the same smile and she was pulled through the door.

May watched the door close behind her and turned back to Drew. They had already reached the stairs that would lead them down to the cobblestones when she pulled. She felt the slightest of impatient frustrations as she had often when she was a child, but the unexpectedness of Drew's action tempered it. "Drew… You're hurting my arm."

Drew sighed at the tone and let her go, turning back to her as she rubbed the spot and frowned slightly. "What was that?"

Drew paused, then shook his head. "Nothing."

May pursed her lips. The frustration was back. He always did this. He didn't talk, about anything. Even now when he had obviously done something out of the ordinary, he wouldn't tell her why.

Drew saw her expression and turned away and May did the same with a sigh. It was frustrating. But it was nothing new.

And still… she didn't know why it frustrated her.

Realizing this she let out a calming breath and forced a smile, turning back to him. He was trying, she told herself. This wasn't about her. It never was.

"How did it go?" she whispered.

For a moment Drew considered telling her everything, and then the moment passed as he imagined her response. She would be surprised, and the surprise would follow either disbelief, or worry for him. The disbelief was the part that stopped him. May believed everything he said. She always had, so he wasn't sure where the fear was from. The fear that he wouldn't be believed, or that what he said would overwhelm her and send her running. But he'd always had it. And so, instead of speaking, he shook his head and forced a smile. "It was fine," he whispered. Each word felt like a lie, because of course it was. And he had to wonder if he had made the right decision when the light in her eyes dimmed behind the smile.

"Oh," she whispered. Still in a whisper. Then she said, "that's good," and something about it still bothered him.

Then sighing she looked up at the sunny sky and said, "I was going to see Ash and Misty today, but they're on a date." She smiled. "Funny, isn't it?"

Drew blinked and looked up, as if he would see the image she was imagining into existence. He shrugged. "Not really."

"It's funny to me," May said. "They've been friends for a long time."

"So've we," he said. It took him a moment to realize what he had said, and how it sounded. A blush started over his face, something that didn't often happen in such a circumstance, and he tried to find something to say before May could draw her own conclusions. But May had already dropped her gaze from the sky and was staring at him and feeling her looking Drew looked down as well.

May blinked, then smiled and bit her lip. "Yeah, we have."

Drew realized then that the best way to let it slip by was to not respond. So he wasn't sure why he was disappointed when May followed her words and slipped by him, turning over her shoulder with a smile. "I'm going to the park. Wanna come?"

Drew blinked. "The park?"

May nodded. It was something they had done often when they were children, and from time to time as they got older, just to be able to get away and talk. It had been a while since they had gone. But Drew's mind strayed to other matters. "Alone?" he asked.

May stared back at him in silence, then raised an eyebrow and smiled. "No? You're coming with me."

Drew raised an eyebrow in like, "Am I?" he asked, feeling slightly amused.

May nodded, "Either way I'm going. So you can go home or I can go sit in the park till someone crosses my path that looks conversational."

Drew frowned. "That's a great plan."

May blinked. "Maybe not the best, but I'm sure there's someone out there just as bored as I am."

Drew sighed and shifted his gaze. This was May's impossible. Something she just didn't get, no matter how many times he tried to explain it to her… though to be fair he had never been blunt. It was something he didn't really know how to talk about clearly.

"What's wrong?" May asked.

Drew shook his head. "Nothing. I'm coming with you."

May smiled and it was worth it.

Drew looked up at the sky as May sat on a bench beside them. "It's hot today," he stated.

"Yeah, but it's beautiful. I wonder why there aren't more people out."

Drew looked around the park and shrugged. "Maybe it's _too_ hot."

"I think it's nice."

Drew turned back to her and sat on the bench as May kept her eyes closed and absorbed the sun.

"Can I ask you a question?"

May's eyes were still closed when he looked at her and he nodded slowly. Then realizing she couldn't see it, he said, "Sure, I guess."

May's eyes opened but her body didn't shift as she stared ahead of her. "Why can't… Why can't you talk about it?"

Drew blinked. Suddenly the air in the park wasn't as inviting. He felt as if they had both been stuffed into a bubble where it was just them and the park surrounding them went by at its own pace. While he didn't know specifically where she was going with it, he wasn't sure he wanted to. "About what?" he whispered, despite it.

May swallowed. Carefully she tried to word it. "Like… things. Personal things? When you were a kid? And… your sessions?" May stopped to look at him.

Drew was staring at the ground, some part of him numbed as he listened and realized that he didn't want to answer and didn't know how.

And then almost to lessen the questions May asked. "Why can't you tell me?"

Drew looked at her, realizing with the question that this was more personal to her. It only made him not want to answer it more. He shrugged, an action not quite him, and May frowned, though it was lacking in frustration. "I'm not… I just don't understand," she admitted quietly.

Drew bit his lip and pulled in a calming breath. He closed his eyes and searched himself, the things he had said to Victor and the things he had already told her and asked himself the same question. Why couldn't he tell her? He flashed back to earlier that same day and remembered his fear at the idea of telling her about Victor, something that wasn't even a problem of his, and his wondering why he was afraid. The honest answer was that he didn't know.

"I don't know," he whispered.

May's eyes widened and Drew looked back to her to see the expression with surprise. Drew wasn't sure what about it was surprising to her, but she continued to stare at him like he had said something strange and then he realized that he _had_ said something strange. He had said he didn't know. Not knowing was enough of a stretch for him, but in this context he had also admitted that he did have a problem talking about the things, or about talking to her about them. Realizing what had come out of his mouth prompted some form of frustration he didn't understand. Drew looked to the ground swiftly and frowned. "But it's not like there's something wrong with me," he said quickly, the first thing he could think of coming out of his mouth unprocessed. "That's why I'm talking to Victor and he's helping me, so why does it matter?" The words struck an emotional chord and instantly he thought of Jackson, of the fact that Victor wasn't helping him anymore, that Victor had a problem, and that he wasn't telling anyone.

So much for progress.

Drew's expression went sour, and May noticed it.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Drew's eyes shut in frustration. "It's fine," he muttered.

May swallowed and they both sat in silence till Drew sighed. "I'm kind of tired. I'm going to go home, and sleep or something."

May nodded.

Drew glanced at her. "You should go home too."

May looked around the park and shrugged.

Drew could see the 'why should I' coming and quickly followed up, "You look tired."

May stopped to consider it and shrugged. "I guess I am a little."

Drew smiled lightly. "Then go home and rest."

May offered a half smile. "Probably a good idea," she admitted quietly.

Drew nodded and stood from the bench offering her his hand which she took with a smile to pull herself from the bench.

Drew went home with her, then did what he said he would and went home.

It was quiet. Again, he wondered why he wanted to be closed up in the house. As he made his way through the rooms he thought about the end of their session. Jackson had been reluctant for him to leave, and it was several minutes past the end of his session before he had realized they had gone over. In a strange moment of nervousness, Jackson had looked from the door to him and frowned. Then becoming his usual self, a little more confident and a little closer to Victor himself, he smiled and said that he was coming with him down to the lobby. He had seemed almost excited, which was another thing Drew didn't understand. He thought it might have something to do with what Jackson had told him previously about being alone.

What did he remember? What did he know? It was strange to Drew that Jackson didn't remember what Victor did when he was 'Victor.' Being as he usually switched at home, as he had stated, had he ever been down in the lobby? Or that was, did he remember being down in the lobby? He was very much like a child in his excitement and temperament. It was funny considering Victor was calm, but the more Drew thought about it the more he could see the similarities. Victor talked to Drew about sports on their first session, and he often switched to less than important topics at the beginning of a session, or when Drew didn't have anything to say. While Victor had declared it to be his own way to do his job, Drew was beginning to wonder how professional Victor was, and if part of it was merely a persona he used when he was working. If so, he could be far less collected at home or outside of his career. Was he more like Jackson… or was Jackson someone completely different?

* * *

Drew got to his next session late. Usually he was on time, or early. In fact, he couldn't remember another time in his life when he had been late for anything, save as a small child when the proper etiquette had been ingrained into him. This time coming to his session had been like dragging his feet.

When Drew sucked up his emotions and knocked on the door, he was met by the common "C'mon in."

Drew opened the door and looked around, expecting to see Jackson smirking at him from some point in the room. Instead he found the man across the room, leaning again over the table with the photos.

Drew hesitated till their gazes met.

"Sorry." The pictures were lifted and piled back into the box. Drew watched him warily, till the box was closed and he crossed the room to join Drew before the chairs. He smiled and motioned, "sit down." Then he passed Drew and sat in his usual chair.

Drew swallowed and watched the movements and realized that he was far more composed than their last two sessions. When his psychologist sat in the chair and stared up at him curiously, seeing he still hadn't moved. Drew hesitated.

"Are you… Are you Victor?"

Victor blinked at him, surprised in a way was more Jackson then Victor, then raised an eyebrow and asked, "I'm sorry. What?"

Drew didn't know what to think at the realization that he was now sitting in front of Victor. Just Victor. What was it that made him meet Jackson? What was it that made Jackson take over to talk to him? It was almost a relief to be standing in front of Victor, as if he had been missing an old friend that he had been able to talk to. And with Jackson missing…he wondered if he still could.

Slowly, realizing Victor was still staring at him, Drew lowered into the chair and offered a small smile.

Victor stared at him curiously, opened his mouth, then shook his head and shut it with a smile. "Never mind. Where were we?"

Drew swallowed again. It was hard not to feel nervous. Where had they been and did he even want to talk about it? Did Victor even know what was going on?

The last question hit him hard. Victor didn't seem to know about Jackson, which didn't make any sense. Drew opened his mouth to ask about it even as the thought hit him: If Victor didn't know about it, then telling him about it would cause some form of confusion or stress. Drew wouldn't be able to talk to him like that. He might never be able to again.

Drew frowned when he realized the path his thoughts were taking. Why did he _want_ to talk to Victor? Immediately he thought of himself at the beginning of their sessions, not knowing what to say or how to start or if he even wanted to. Now it was almost a need, to get better, to get through it. He wasn't even sure how that made sense, but it did.

"Something wrong?"

Drew hesitated and met Victor's gaze, then shook his head. "No-um. I don't…I don't remember where we were."

Victor nodded and paused, looking up to the ceiling. It took him a little longer than normal to follow up with where they had been. Drew watched small frowns run over his expression before he sighed and lowered his gaze again. "Your father, wasn't it?"

Drew absorbed the phrase and realized that had been were they were… three weeks prior. Drew nodded without comment.

"How's that coming?"

Drew forced himself to ignore everything else and answer, "I haven't really thought about it."

Victor stared at him and nodded. "Alright then. We'll come back to that."

Drew frowned as Victor moved on, feeling as if he had done something wrong even though he had been far too distracted with Jackson the last two weeks. It was strange the way he began to slip back into their session, as if nothing was different-though everything was-and he started to wonder as he stared at Victor if it even mattered.

He still wasn't sure what he thought when Victor moved on.

Moment by moment, Drew slipped deeper into their session, forgetting about Jackson, forgetting about his worries as Victor asked him questions. Continuing till the worries felt more like dreams in the back of his mind then issues. This was normal, something he had become used to. He didn't think too much on the fact that something about it was comforting.

Victor had been asking him about his childhood schooling, a path led to by mentions of his parents, when Drew mentioned that his parents had tried to make him learn French, but he had dropped it after some time. "Huh," Victor muttered.

Drew blinked. "What?"

"My parents did that too," he admitted.

"Oh."

Victor smiled apologetically when he realized he had been in a dream like mode. "I stuck with it. I always did. My mother was passionate about my schooling. Passed the tests too." He looked to the ceiling with a baffled yet amused expression. "And to this day, I have no idea how I did it. I didn't pay attention at all. I didn't even enjoy it."

Drew watched him till Victor dropped the reminiscing expression and shrugged. "I couldn't speak French if I tried, now."

Drew nodded. "Yeah. Me neither."

Victor smiled and shook his head. "Strange the things we forget…."

There was something fore longing in the sentence, something that made Drew pause and remember Jackson. It was then that the thought occurred to him. When Jackson switched… where did Victor go? How could he not remember what he did when he was Jackson? Did he just forget about it?

"You…" the word trailed off on his lip as he remembered his earlier worries. Victor looked to him curiously. "Never mind…."

Realizing Drew wasn't going to finish his thought Victor asked curiously. "So why did you drop it?"

"Drop…"

"French."

Drew paused. "Well… it's hard to explain. It was in high school and my parents… My parents had controlled everything up to that point. It was the first thing I got to choose if I would keep or throw out…I can't really explain it. It just…" Drew tried not to blush at the admission. "It just felt good to say I was done with it."

Victor stared at him intently for a moment. "I see."

Drew offered a half smile.

"That's normal too, you know."

Drew shrugged.

"Often times when we feel like we're out of control, we jump on the opportunity to take it."

Drew stared at him, expecting more and surprised when Victor said nothing else. It wasn't advice really, just a statement. And when looking to his gaze Drew found something deeper there, something like passion for what he had said. For the first time since he had entered the room, Drew began to feel nervous again. He glanced to the clock and Victor's gaze followed. "Same time next week."

Drew nodded.

* * *

When Drew entered the lobby he was too far into his thoughts to think of anything else. May had greeted him last time his session had ended, but it didn't occur to him to look for her. He was so distracted that he didn't notice the presence beside him till the nervous tap on his arm brought him out of his thoughts. He jumped slightly, but the jump of the person beside him quite outweighed his.

Drew expected perhaps to see May, but instead he was met with wide surprised eyes and hands clenching in a shirt in the deep nervousness that surpassed May in even her most self-conscious moments. The girl looked at him warily, and Drew realized instantly who it was, recognizing the black hair and nervous demeanor. It was the girl he had met twice, the one at the baseball game, the one who liked the counselor Doctor Swarren that he had been irritated with. The girl who had once been a patient of Victor's.

"Natalia," he muttered in surprise.

She smiled when she realized he remembered her name and nodded shakily. "Hi," she whispered. Drew looked up the hall and found them to be the only two there. When he looked back to her she was looking at the receptionist intently. She blinked at Drew's attention on her, but this time she didn't smile. Instead she swallowed. "May I talk to you for a moment?"

"Um… yeah." Drew looked around and shrugged, sitting on the nearest bench at the end. To his surprise instead of sitting beside him she sat on the bench beside his on the end as well, so the arms of said benches were between them. Drew glanced to them, then up to her and tried to shake off the thoughts. Offering a comforting smile, he asked. "What is it?"

Natalia suddenly seemed very troubled. She looked to the receptionist again and then to the doors Drew had come through, then back to Drew. Taking a deep breath she looked him up and down and whispered, "Can we… go a little further?"

Drew blinked. "Sorry. What?"

"Down the hallway."

"Oh!" Drew realized she wanted to be alone to discuss whatever she wanted to say, and though he already found them quite alone it was hard to say 'no' to the girl who was looking at him so nervously and intently. He nodded. "Sure. Let's um…" he glanced down the hallway, "…let's go."

She rose and Drew followed her till they were quite a distance away. The receptionist herself wouldn't even hear. Still Natalia's voice was in a whisper when she looked at him, though it took her several moments to speak. Drew was surprised at the tears that rose in her eyes, though nearly unnoticeable. His own eyes widened as he realized how important what she was about to say was to her.

"Last week," she whispered.

Drew had to strain to hear her and could not help his confusion at her words. He blinked. "Last week?"

She nodded and Drew couldn't miss the tremor that went through her, or the way she was suddenly shaking as she pushed on. "You came in here… There was a girl… waiting for you."

"Um, yeah. May."

Natalia nodded. "Don't…" Taking a deep calming breath she looked up at Drew. "Don't let her... talk to Victor."

The words hit him as if they had been physical. His eyes widened. Something stirred in his stomach at the words.

She knew something.

Maybe what he knew. Maybe he wasn't alone in his thoughts. And then the idea left under his confusion.

What did that have to do with May? Was this something else?

"Don't…let him talk to May?" He repeated slowly. He didn't try to hide the confusion as it came over his face. "Why?"

Natalia looked away and shook her head. "Just don't." She looked down the hallway, and then looked back to Drew and gave him one of the most intense, sincere expressions he had ever received. "Don't tell Victor I told you."

Then she offered him a half smile and turned from him, hurrying down the hall, and disappearing through the door to the outside world.

Drew watched her go with the thought, 'Don't tell him _what?'_

Drew stood silently in the hallway for a few minutes, trying to make sense of what had happened. Slowly a voice came to mind telling him that something was wrong, that maybe keeping Victor's issues to himself wasn't the right thing to do. And again, what did May have to do with it? Victor didn't know May, so why was it wrong for them to talk to each other? Vaguely he recognized that he had acted on that same idea that it might not be safe, by pulling May away when the two of them had begun to speak. But even then it hadn't made much sense, it had just… made him nervous.

Drew sat troubled in one of the benches until the thoughts became impossible to ignore. He had to do something. He had to at least know if this was safe. And besides, what did he really know about the disorder? Drew stilled. Or did he…know more?

Drew bit his lip as he remembered that his mother had had the same disorder, and she had hurt him-hurt him and then moments later given him love. She was unpredictable, and her own version of violent.

Was Victor dangerous? Is that why Natalia was warning him?

In a spurt of energy, and without much conscious thought, Drew stood from the chair and ran down the hallway, out the doors and down the cobble stone steps till he reached the gate. Once there, he stopped, taking a breath and looking both ways, leaning around a bend in the road. There were a few people on the sidewalk, many walking beside the large nearby park, but he didn't see black hair.

Drew's hands shook.

He might see her again. He could ask her then. Ask her to make sense of it, to answer his questions.

She seemed to be the only one that understood, at least something.

But wait, that wasn't true. Was it?

Drew turned back to the building and looked up, up to where Victor's office would be. Only then did he recognize that he could tell exactly where Victor's office was from the sidewalk. The old building did have large windows, but with Victor's they covered the entire portion of the wall. Such a thing was never done on these old buildings, and had to have been redone.

Who else knew? Jackson did. Could…Jackson help him?

Or was it insanity to ask for help from the insane?

* * *

"Ow! Damn."

"Language!"

"You hit me!"

"…"

"That warrants a curse at least!"

May sighed. "I'm going to meet Drew."

Misty watched her leave the room vaguely while Ash ignored it, wholly intent on glaring at Misty across the room. When the door shut behind May, Misty continued to stare at it and Ash slowly lost the expression. "What's wrong?"

Misty's expression twisted as she turned back to him. "Haven't you noticed?"

Ash blinked, and looked back to the door. "What? May?"

Misty looked intently at the table between them and didn't bother to answer.

Ash swallowed and dropped his hands to his lap, looking bothered as he stared at Misty. "It's alright."

"No it's not," she whispered.

Ash sighed and stood from the chair, making his way around the table till they were sitting together on the couch. "What do you think is wrong?"

Misty opened her mouth, then shut it. "I don't know. Both of them…they've been strange."

Ash joined her staring at the table and let out a short breath. "Yeah," he admitted. That part he had noticed. Drew and he, whether or not the two of them had ever really stated it, had become good friends. And Drew had been incredibly distant, to the point that all of them had been wondering the same thing: Had they made a mistake in pushing him to get counseling? But of course it hit May the most as she worried about him, and that concern passed to Misty, which in turn passed to Ash and convinced him to take a good look at what was happening.

After a couple minutes of silence Ash stated, "You know…him being quiet… it doesn't mean this was a mistake. Sometimes people have to hit the bottom. It's just part of the process."

Misty bit her lip. "What about May?"

Ash sighed and sat back in the couch. "I don't know," he admitted. After a moment he continued in a slightly more confident voice, "But it won't last forever. When he gets through this she will too. And… she'll have been there. That'll help. It always helps."

Misty glanced at him. Ash didn't meet her gaze. After a moment she asked, "Is it really enough?"

Ash glanced back, took in her expression and smiled. "It's more than enough."

Misty sighed, her emotion releasing with the action. "Okay," she whispered.

Ash watched her from behind and smiled, leaning over to wrap his arms around her.

Weeks ago she would have jumped. Now blush was still there, but was met with a smile as well. She didn't have to say how good it felt. And actively she turned her brain off and allowed him to pull her back onto the couch. "It'll be okay," he whispered.

Misty sighed and let herself believe him.

It was nice to let someone else take over the worry.

* * *

May wasn't sure that she would meet Drew. He would've left before, and by the way the last few weeks had been going, he would've gone home. But still, if she left then she knew she might meet him on the way back. It was hard to sit inside while Ash and Misty argued and she worried about Drew. And she knew at the very least this would give her some air to think.

Still, she hoped she would meet him.

No sooner had the thought left her mind did she feel a pinprick of attention. A feeling that makes you raise your head before you realize that you're feeling someone's gaze on you. Looking up to meet the feeling she realized what it was, and saw Drew some paces ahead up on the street, still and simply staring at her.

May couldn't help the smile that came, though she herself didn't move. After some more moments she began to walk till she reached him. "Hey."

Drew blinked. "Hey," he whispered.

May bit her lip and at the same time smiled. "Okay?"

Drew sighed at the question, and while usually there would be some annoyance, this time he didn't feel any. "Yeah."

May nodded and turned to his side, slipping her arm into his. Drew twitched, his thoughts leaving him in an instant, and struggled not to blush.

"Come with me?"

Drew swallowed and nodded. May smiled and pulled him down the street.

* * *

Misty jumped when she heard the door open. She knew instantly that it was May, who for some reason didn't see the sense in knocking. Hearing more footsteps she frowned and raised herself from Ash's chest. The two had fallen asleep on the couch. Surprising enough an occurrence for her, but somehow possible in Ash's arms. She looked over the couch and found Drew next to Misty who smiled awkwardly at her. She looked from him to May and seeing her pleased smiled as well.

May continued to pull and Drew rolled his eyes as she tugged him around the couch then stopped when she saw Ash. "Awww," she cooed. Drew glanced at her while Misty did the same. She noticed neither of their stares, and Misty shook her head good naturedly before turning to him as well. He was still asleep on the couch, and at some point Misty had pushed his hat off, so that it now lay on the floor. Misty continued to stare and smile while May's attention turned from Ash to her. She smiled at it. It was good to see them together. The two had been best friends before May had even met them, and she had known even since then that there was something there. It was almost a relief to see. After a few moments May again felt the stare, and turned to Drew to find him still looking at her.

"May can I… can I ask you something?" he said quietly.

Misty looked up from the couch and May nodded slowly. "Sure."

Drew swallowed and looked to Misty. "Um… over here. Just for a minute."

He pointed to the hallway and May looked to Misty. "Okay…."

May wasn't sure what to think when they reached the hallway. This felt different. Drew's attitude was different. And after the quiet way he'd been acting, she would've been lying if she said it didn't make her nervous.

Drew looked away nervously, then looking back to May took a deep breath. "Okay um… don't take this the wrong way. It's not… It's not what it sounds like. I just have a request." Sighing about how it might be taken, but not knowing how else to state it he whispered, "I need you to do something for me."

May nodded once, looking worried.

"Don't… come… to the sessions." Drew strung out the last word, feeling a little guilty about how it must sound. He found himself right at the disturbed look that flashed through May's eyes. He wasn't sure what was going through her mind as she frowned and looked between his gaze.

"Why?"

Drew faltered, opening his mouth and then shutting it and not knowing what to say. He felt that he had to follow up with what Natalia had told him, even if it was virtually nothing. But to explain it to May… How could he do that?

The feeling was a familiar one. He had always been nervous to tell her things, but this time it was different. This time he didn't know how. He didn't know if it was wise. It was just so different. And something inside him didn't want to tell her.

He didn't know what would happen.

May continued to watch him struggle for an answer.

"Was it… Is it…" She stopped and shook her head. Then looking away, she swallowed and whispered, "Sorry."

Drew watched her turn and re-enter the living room with a sense of dread.

He had seen the tears.

She hadn't even pointed them out. But that hadn't been the point. She hadn't needed to say "sorry."

So why had she?

What did she think he meant?

And how could he prove her wrong if he couldn't tell her what was happening?

* * *

**A/N Thank you for reading. Please leave me a review, and feel free to check out my twitter, which is awfully boring honestly, but I'm there. :P There's a link on my profile. Buh-Bye! :)**


	23. Wrong

**A/N: Yello. **** So! I'm sorry for the wait. I won't say everything that kept me from updating but will mention that I was kidnapped for a week and travelled out of town and had no physical ability to update. :/ So there's that. Regardless, here is the chapter. Finally. **** Thank you all for reading and I hope you like it. This one is very short but the next will be extra long to make up for it. Also, to make up for the long wait I will be updating the next chapter VERY quickly. In fact, it's already done! :D So review quickly so I know everyone's seen it and I can update! **

**VERY EXCITING NEW STORY INFO! YAY!**

**Hehe, did that get your attention? :3 Anyway. I do indeed have a new story. It's a oneshot collection for DrewxMay and AshxMisty. It is titled "A Bike & A Rose," and you can find it on my profile at the top of my story list. Thankies.  
**

**THIS CHAPTER IS A FLASHBACK.**

* * *

It was dark that night. Dark in the way even night shouldn't be. When the stars themselves don't shine and the moon is hidden in a cloud that covers the entire sky. It's easy, in this atmosphere, to feel that simply every light in the sky has momentarily gone out.

Often on nights like these there is an air of supernatural. A slight fog in the streets and a chill in the wind, though the air itself may be warm. It is also eerily silent, because nobody cares to be outside on a night like that. Nobody wants to be outside in a dark atmosphere that takes minutes to adjust to before being able to place your hand in front of your face and believe it's really there.

It's always eerily silent.

Usually Drew would have been the last to break it. That night he was the first.

The yells and screams from the house, fitted between a row of houses almost just like it, should have alerted someone that something was wrong. There should have been police outside his house or a nice neighbor who had noticed Drew in the past knocking on the door to make sure he was okay.

But as every night like this one, despite the screeching, neighbors looked out the window into the dark night and concluded that the screams would take care of themselves, that it was a case of an angry couple and of course a child _could _be involved but that wasn't exactly probable. There might not be a child involved and then they would have called the police for nothing and my, wouldn't that be embarrassing? They could be wrong and that one phone call would be such an inconvenience when people laughed at their worry over nothing. Certainly nothing was happening next door with the screaming and banging, and it wasn't like they were next door neighbors and _knew_ there was a child there.

Drew would think many of these things repeatedly in the years that followed in bitter anger that would fade to an understanding that he had to save himself.

So that's what he did. And in that moment, he hardly thought of the fact that the neighbors were listening, because them pretending not to hear was almost as convincing as them not hearing at all.

Drew ducked just in time to avoid the ceramic bowl thrown over his head. In the same motion he had pulled the door open and stomped out into the dark night and the cold wind and the silence with anger coursing through his veins and frustration flying off his heels.

He tried to ignore the man coming after him. Tried to, but couldn't because the moment his feet touched the street the man turned him around and opened his mouth to yell. He paused, and at first Drew was sure it was because he had seen the bruise forming on his face and felt some form of guilt. And then he realized that he couldn't see his father's face and so his father couldn't see his, and he couldn't understand why he had stopped. The man moved on quickly enough and Drew forgot his only slight tolerance for him.

"What the hell are you thinking?!" Echoed in the cold air between them. In the silence of the night it seemed to echo farther and louder than any sentence had, flying down the street and to any prying ears.

Drew glared at him, though he knew he couldn't see and didn't answer, doing what he could to pull from the man's grip.

When his father didn't let go Drew let out his first words in the last hour, a yell that hurt his own ears and echoed far farther than his father's had. "LET ME GO!"

The surprise was enough to loosen his grip and allow Drew to pull away, because Drew didn't yell-not at him. He whispered. He whispered and bowed his head and hardly ever talked to him. His father on many occasions just thought of 'quiet' as the sort of person Drew was, though he had no idea how his son interacted with other people.

But Drew wasn't a quiet person, and his anger, years and years of anger, rolled off of him in waves that his father didn't have to see on his face as he continued. "You will _never_ touch me again! That…" Drew paused, shoulders coming in on himself as he swallowed a particularly painful emotion and pointed to the window of the house. "That woman will _never, NEVER _touch me again. I swear to God, I will never spend another moment in your presence! I will never talk to you! I will never see you! I will never even write to you and you will NEVER, _ever_ touch me again!"

His finger dropped and Drew, breathless with his own anger and release of never spoken emotions, glared at his father through the darkness, waited to see if the words had sunk in. The darkness was beginning to adjust around them and he could just barely see his father's face in the dark. An indecipherable expression, one he would never understand.

Tears rose in Drew's eyes and he chanced one more glance at the house before he turned on his heel and began to leave again. This time he stopped himself with the words behind him.

"She needs you."

Drew stopped. He felt as if he had been punched when the words sunk in and despite himself he began to laugh. The laughter was dry and without humor and gradually he began to see it and wonder why he was laughing. The laughter dissolved to violent tears that still _somehow_ he was laughing through, bitter and ironic tears that he wiped from his face. "She _needs_ me?" He turned and glared at his father. "She _needs me_?!" He still didn't know why he had been laughing, and his expression showed only the anger.

His father didn't answer, and Drew didn't know what was going through his head, and he didn't see his father's mouth opening to answer when he filled in the space for him.

"Why? So I can be the thing she takes whatever is wrong with her out on?! So I can be her toy?!" His shoulders dropped and as his father had cursed mere moments before he repeated the first curse word of his life, though he had thought it many times. "What the hell is wrong with you?" The mere question echoed more between them without words.

This time Drew couldn't move and he remembered what had led to this. He had told his parents an hour or more before that he was leaving. That he was emancipated. That he wasn't coming back. He'd done everything he could think of to keep it a secret from them, in a violent fear that they would stop it from happening, and he had made it. It had been the hardest thing he had ever done, but if they had any doubts, going to the authorities with the bruise on his face the next day would only help.

Drew still hadn't expected it.

He hadn't expected his mother to start to cry, to ask him why, to look so confused. Hadn't expected her to violently change moments later and to jump towards him to who knew what end. Drew was relieved and confused when his father had grabbed her and kept her back because his limbs were shaking and he wasn't sure he would've been able to get away from her if he wanted to. Still the control had lasted only moments before she had gotten away from him and found it easier to grab the nearest item and chuck it across the room when he was too far away.

Drew hadn't known he could feel so afraid outside of the closet. Something about this, now, was terrifying. It was terrifying to have her so bluntly angry at him, so violent. While it had happened before it was never so obvious. She had often pushed him in the closet, said things he found cruel but others didn't (if they were ignoring it, he would never know). And if she did hurt him it was under the guise of something, done in a way Drew didn't feel he could consider abuse. Rather it was something he had earned, something like a spanking to a child doing wrong. He had felt more angry at himself then her in those instances and he could hardly remember them now anyway as with many of his memories these were ones he had placed somewhere in the back of his mind, somewhere were he could ignore them and pretend they hadn't happened.

This was different. This was open and violent and angry and Drew couldn't lie to himself that he was shaking, that it took everything in him to gather himself enough to keep on his feet and stay with his resolve to become emancipated, rather than collapse to the ground and apologize and promise he would listen. There was still a voice in the back of his head that said that she held all of the cards in his life, that she would find a way to punish him and that she had the world on strings. Fighting against that voice was the hardest thing he had ever done, telling himself that there were people that could stand up against her, that _someone_ would believe him-because as much as he just wanted to help himself someone had to believe him in order for him to get away.

It was reminding himself this, reminding himself that he wasn't working on it anymore, that he _was_ emancipated, that he didn't have to stay in the house until she was better or killed him, gave him the mindset he needed to make his way to the door and run out into the street.

And of course the man had followed him.

Drew wasn't sure why he had expected to be able to walk down the street without it. He wasn't sure why he had expected his father not to care. Something inside him was more scared than relieved when his father grabbed him. The idea that he would pull him back into the house and keep him there despite all of Drew's efforts led to his angry and terrified outburst.

It was the first time he had ever stood up to him, or admitted to himself in the moment that there was a reason to.

It was quite a simple thing to separate mindsets. To feel terrified at night and then move on and pretend that everything was alright in the day. In fact it was almost a matter of survival, because how could you continue to live if every moment was pure terror?

But there were moments when the fear showed through, when all of your clever hiding and ignoring and brainwashing left you feeling empty and scared. When someone would point to a scar and ask about it and instead of stating calmly that you had tripped down the stairs, your mind was there again, and you were experiencing it, and you were shaking, and you only just managed to slip an excuse through your terror, and they _took_ that stupid, stupid excuse like running into a lamp or cutting yourself on the edge of a chalkboard.

It was so easy to see through, so why didn't they?

And Drew's hate and lack of trust for people only grew with their acceptance and blatant ignoring of every simple, stupid excuse.

May was the only one who had ever not taken the excuse, and she was a child. It hardly helped his opinion or his dying trust of adults. Still, she gave him what he needed to make it through, to survive and find out who he wanted to be, despite his parents telling him what he should be.

All of it ran through his head in blurs. Moments upon moments from his childhood and teen years. He didn't have to wonder as the thoughts faded, what he wanted to do. He wanted to be gone. He wanted to save himself. He wanted to have a life. He wanted to be able to talk to May without worrying about her coming to see his mother. He wanted to have somewhere to call home.

The last sentence might never come, he knew, but he could get the rest of those wishes.

"_She needs you."_

"Why?!" he repeated to the night air. The vision improving around them but still quite dark. "Why do…" He clenched his teeth in anger, hands tightening at his sides. They felt wet, he realized, like there had been a small rain in the fog but it wasn't raining, so what was it? In the dark it was easy to wonder if he had clenched his hands so tightly that now they were bleeding and still it didn't seem to matter. He glared at his father and waited and somewhere deep down inside _hoped_ that his father would give him a valid explanation, give him some way to understand what was going on around him and the strange thing that was their family. He hadn't known it was strange when he was a child, but he did now, and rather than giving him relief, it filled him with anger and frustration. Why was his life like this? Why were _they_ like this?

"Why?" he asked again, and didn't know if his father really knew what he was referring to.

"Because she does."

Drew's mouth fell open and stayed there. He didn't speak. Didn't move. An empty answer. An answer with no support. A response so lacking it could only be said with the assumption that Drew would believe it and accept it.

He realized in an instant that that must be what the man thought, because that was what Drew always did.

Drew felt something lightening in his chest and couldn't help the smile and elation when he opened his mouth and let out a disbelieving scoff, just once, bordering on a laugh.

His father's brow came together. 'Confused,' Drew thought. And that was just better. He really expected Drew to listen.

He really knew nothing about him. He really, really expected Drew to just go along with it because it was him that was saying it and Drew couldn't help the glee that ran through him when he realized that he didn't have to do it anymore. That he could ignore him completely. That he could turn and walk down the street without a word and the man couldn't do one thing to stop him. But he was feeling like he wanted to laugh now, and turning around and leaving wouldn't be nearly as much fun as reveling in this newfound power.

He giggled.

His father's expression became more confused and the giggles exploded into full on laughter, to the point that Drew was bending over his knees and gasping for breath, elated as his father watched him laugh and had no idea why. And he could keep going, go on and on and on, and his father couldn't stop him. He couldn't hand him over to his mother or agree with a punishment. He couldn't hit him, though he never had, but now he didn't have the power to without being held quite responsible for it. And on top of all that Drew was very aware that his father had never once heard him laugh, and that just made him want to laugh even more because it was all so hilariously ironic.

"Why are you laughing?"

Drew giggled again when he asked. He couldn't help it. The man should be yelling at him, not asking something as harmless as that. But now that was all that he could do. That was it.

Drew stood up with a bright smile and another laugh. "It's funny."

"What… What's funny?"

Drew waved his arms and dropped them back to his sides. "This!" He smiled wildly and then looked back to the house on automatic and his smile dropped from his face and he was glaring at it again feeling suddenly disturbed and angry as minutes before.

"Drew… Are you alright?"

Drew turned back to him and the man was watching him carefully and Drew smiled again and didn't feel quite so angry at again seeing the confusion on his face. "It doesn't really matter now, does it?"

The man blinked and a moment of silence passed between them before the man asked carefully, "Drew, what were we just talking about?"

Drew blinked in response. The situation suddenly wasn't funny and he tried to get that elation back but it faded under the strange question. "We were talking about me leaving."

The man watched him again and nodded. "Alright then," he muttered more to himself. Drew watched him and felt irritated as his good fun faded and he was the one left confused.

"Why did you ask me that?"

"There's no reason," the man answered, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Drew's hands remained out and clenched at his sides. "Don't lie to me! You always do this! Ask me stupid questions! Why do you-"

"You shouldn't leave."

The words were spoken quietly and Drew froze. It was the tone the man rarely used on him, though often on his mother, and Drew had time and time again seen him use it to calm her down and take her from the room and it always worked. Drew wasn't sure why, but it did make him feel a little more calm, like if his father wasn't worried then he shouldn't be either. He had already taken a step towards him when his eyes opened wide and a violent tremor ran through him. "What are you-Why?"

"You have a problem, Drew."

Drew blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Come back to the house and I'll talk to you about it."

Drew clenched his teeth as he suddenly realized what it was about and shook his head violently, as if that would get his point across. Fear motivated the action but determination laced his tone, "I get it. You're doing that. Tricking me into coming home. I don't care what you say anymore. I really don't. You can say whatever you want to mom, but I'm leaving and I won't listen to another word you say. I…I hate this, and I hate you. I hate both of you. I hate this." The tears were rising without his will again, and he couldn't stop them. He felt lucky when his father spoke again and tempered the tears by giving him other words to focus on.

"This is no trick. It's something I should have told you a long time ago. We need to talk, but we can't talk here. Let's go back to the house. We'll work all this out. It'll be alright."

There were still tears in his eyes while Drew stared back at him, thoroughly confused at the words and tone. His father never talked to him like this. It was too comforting, too caring.

And too out of character to trust.

Drew took a step back and swallowed, his heart beginning to beat quickly in his chest. Again he thought of the tone, this same one used time and time again on his mother. He had been thankful for his father's way of talking his mother out of things, of calming her down in the past. But now, used on him, it just felt wrong. And he knew that was what his father was doing, because he couldn't care. He couldn't love him. He couldn't have something important to tell him. Any love should have been showed years ago. So why now?

The answer was obvious. He was running away.

He wished he could believe it.

Drew shook his head and the tears came again, spilling over as he took another step back. Where were the neighbors? Where were the people who had heard the commotion? Where was someone to come outside and snap him from this daydream he was under because of a few words from his father? Why, just once, couldn't someone else care about him? Why couldn't one person set aside their stupid inhibitions and just step outside and ask him if he was alright?

"Drew, come back to the house with me. I promise, we'll talk about this. It will be alright."

It was in that moment that Drew came to the incredibly harmful realization that he couldn't trust anybody.

He realized in a flash that his father was just as manipulative as his mother. He had never thought of it that way because it was his mother who had always done the hurting. But his mother had never lied about it and stood in the shadows and said it would all be okay while doing nothing and expecting him to believe it.

And that was what his father had always done, in theory. He had never yelled at him, never hurt him. He had simply not helped. He had sat by idly and Drew had thought that his father at least left him alone, but how was that any better? And now he was asking him to come back, to make his way back into the house with the woman that would only continue to hurt him for the rest of his life and he did it all with the prefix, _"I promise… It will be alright."_

Drew had never seen him as the problem, but hiding behind all of that silence it had been there, and now he could see it, all laid out before him in painful, obvious treachery.

If his own father could hide this so well from him, how in the world could he expect to see through the guise of other adults?

"Drew…."

Drew hadn't realized that he was still moving, but he was taking small steps back, shaking his head more and more and crying silently with each movement. He didn't know what to do, or what to think. Maybe he had made up some of it in his head. Maybe all people were just as manipulative as his father and you only saw it later. Maybe he was fooling himself that he would find somewhere better or safer if he got away from them.

What if he ran from them just to find something worse? How could he trust that the people he met were really better when he had spent his entire life thinking his father was just fine?

"Drew-"

"No!"

Drew's father stopped and when Drew opened his eyes his heart jumped into his throat and he stumbled back quickly because his father was almost to him, almost within arms reach and he had been too caught up to notice. But he said it again, "No," and swallowed his tears to speak clearly.

His father frowned. "No?"

"No," he repeated breathlessly. "'No' to going back. 'No' to you. You're… You-You're not…" Drew stopped, having no idea how to phrase what he wanted to call his father and finally said. "There are other people. People better than you. You're lying to me. I don't _want _to live with you. I don't want anything to do with you." He was very well aware that he had just combined about four different thoughts running through his mind, but was too shook up to care.

His father gathered it anyway and had stopped walking forward when Drew had moved back. Now he folded his arms across his chest and frowned. "You don't have the right to do this. Not to yourself and not to your mother. You have an obligation-"

"Obligation?!" Drew exploded. The very word made him shake with anger. He had spent his entire life following every single whim that came into his mother's head. That wasn't fair.

His father's frown deepened. "Are you really willing to accept the guilt of what your mother will go through when you leave her? I'm not lying about that, despite what you seem to think. She needs you, and without you she's going to… be very hurt."

Drew wasn't sure what the man had been going to say but recognized that he had trailed off near the end. Drew swallowed the instant guilt that began to build in his stomach towards his heart. It was a familiar enough feeling and something he had heard before, though in other terms. His mother always needed something and Drew could always somehow fulfill that need.

Words from his past flew through his head. This would help her. Just let her do it so she could feel better. He should be ashamed to turn away his own mother and let her suffer. All lies he had heard over and over again, each in a different way. It was confusing and trying to deny it or work out what it meant made his head hurt. He could only feel when they would say it. Feel and go along with it because it always proved to be true and somehow no matter what it was, it was always his fault. If he said no, something bad would happen, and it _was_ his fault in the first place so he _should_ fix it.

Drew had to try very hard to stop thinking. His father was staring at him and Drew couldn't help but think of his mother in the house and feel guilt for something he couldn't name, because even though it didn't make sense in his head it was still his fault.

Drew felt his stomach roll violently and had to raise a hand to his mouth to block it as he stared at his father. "This is wrong," he decided and muttered behind his arm. "This is…This is wrong."

"What is wrong?"

The thoughts in Drew's head numbed and faded with the question, because he had never been able to answer it and still didn't understand what was wrong. How did he know it was wrong? What if it wasn't? ….What if it _was_ his fault?

This was the moment that the universe decided to be incredibly kind to him. A moment when God or fate, or whatever it was Drew had never been taught about, sent Drew something he couldn't explain but would be thankful for, for the rest of his life.

A flash of red.

It was just that and nothing more, and yet Drew turned with the color whizzing by his vision in the sudden wind that swept up them both. His father only shivered but Drew spun to view it. Somehow he had seen it in the dark, and that wasn't possible. As the wind continued down the street Drew squinted in the dark and tried to see it again, to put a name to what had flown by him. As the wind continued he was just able to make out something red fly around the corner of a house, something that could very well have been a scrap of fabric or a bandana.

He stood very still while his father coughed behind him and begged his attention.

Drew didn't wait to hear what he would have said. His mind was still stuck on the red mystery item down the street, the one that had him thinking of one person very quickly.

Drew turned back to his father slowly and found him in the same position, still some feet away.

"It is wrong," he said.

Then he turned and ran.

* * *

**A/N Thank you for reading! Please take a moment to review and if you wanted to check out my new one shot collection remember to do so! I don't think you'll be disappointed.**


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